Yes, it is broken,
but isn’t the world
just a bric-a-brac
of busted parts,
layer on layer
of confused movement, and hashed ideals
unnatural as box hedges clipped
into dinosaurs, dogs,
eyeless waving families?

Look here at this sparrow’s nest,
its splinters of snipped twigs,
cracks of dry leaf,
flakes of moss
and other things
all broken, come together
under fretted brain
and fast heart, perfectly working
until the wind worries it all away.