Indeed, I read the poetry

The lengthy carcass of sprawling words

My eyes adjust to only reread the same lines over and again.

This assignment, this wayward task

Has me running in circles

searching for a short glass

on the rocks, these eyes already read

end the drama, end the scene

For Mr. Eliot I cannot

fathom your scheme

Your lines cross my eyes

and all I can gather

is time

is left

on window pane

in an empty bottle.

 

C. Churchill