The one that goes cack-cack-cack
the one that whinnies like a colt at the back of the field
perhaps they have plundered the mediocrity of capital
to parody it as sensation.
The great elaborate theme
crumples slowly, heavily, elaborately
nudging forward against the picture plane
like a non-supernatural experience that transfigures things
by way of fit, drape, weight, mode of fastening
unstoppable reverie and overdetermination.
Sometimes one is
leaving physics behind
sometimes the body is quiet
in its great effort to avoid equilibrium.