HIDDEN MAJESTY OF THE TRANSPOSING WOODSTOVE
With certitude was the stove on the floor,
as it always was, warming my feet and up,
next I was on the floor and it floated yonder,
and then flashed to a different portion of the room,
upside down
left,
right,
an auspicious hour
and an auspicious remedy
and an auspicious utterance
spewed the hidden majesty,
the wonderous play
of an intelligence with
seventy two names,
and I still don’t know what’s curse
or blessing,
and still haven’t found the flame,
and the stove has once again set
with certainty and accuracy
as the demiurge gives me location
and bread and sleep enough
to sustain a wonder
which dwindles earthly care.
