A Stream in Three Epochs

Window, clear glass, door to the world,
Outside, I mean, and in lower concentrations
The wide distributing fewer particles and more
Interchanges, divisions, intersections the streets
Movement quick as lightning seen through the eyes

First epoch. Second consider a fire consigned
To its place how it eats the logs the gas the smoke
Pours and soots, rushing, drawn, sucked inexorably outside into
Waste, dumps, collected bags, baggage, things have been
Used, expired, what is filled – or emptied shards glass plates
And plastic, tissues, dangerous fabric, etc. et al. and and and

Epoch the third enclosing, what I hold in my chest, heart
Pump-a thump, a thump-pump, chiasmos the crossing (X) central,
Station where the baggage the luggage filled and empties in, put out,
“Going somewhere?” “To…” “Away…” Taking something,
The words, stream of sound moves even along this line,
Metal lines production this unfolding this filling
The heart for all or all for the heart love
Reproduction the children going somewhere?

Out, out to in, the out to the in, these are at least the epochs of the air
The shore, street where it meets, where the inside, the outside
But these are not things the heart for instance or the fire in the coven
Looking bricks pushing out pulling in we think these things we think
And inside it feels warm outside it is cold and wide and fresh.