My hunt´s for the found poem,
the one that finds me, and not
in a book or newspaper, its words
already bolted into place, but
out there in what really occurs
to us or me or them, so instantly
a birth happens like a new bud
on the moonflower, or over time
a pattern flickers like candleflies,
and in creating just what took place
so even the Fiat´s number plate
is unchanged, my jobs to find
a style so transparent you don´t
hear any voice of mine shouting
Look at Me, just the depths gleaming
without a ripple to refract the art