I fetch and you fetch and never rest
all of us long-legged creatures dig
and gather and repair the arches
human history like an anthill
survives its own terrible judgment.
Civilization is like a fair horizon
there it is and there it still is
a tragedy approaching act by act
comedy of somersaults the long way
human history distant as morning.
In our hands what keeps us alive
to be preserved until hunger comes
smooth apples and wrinkled plums
human history like a fruitcake
divided into slices and crumbs.
We are not snow on a roof or leaves
fallen and forgotten only to return
we are not iambic but sprawl
our syllables all over the bed
lit in the mind history burns.