About the things I had not designed,
The stratagems of a deft novelist
Whose narrative was organized in rounds
And drawn across a text elaborately;
The biggest view I could have hoped to find
Turned out to be a myriad of small
And simple parts--but no! The movement of
A humble word is similar to that
Which is the slow movement of the whole.
Confusions of dynamic rhetoric
Amused about a globe where selves are now
Dissolving in ubiquitous media;
I am no self, no artist, but the reed
Of a small flute resounding in Konya.
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