Enclosed within the dark chalet Heidegger names
the hermeneutic circle on endless loan to Dedalus.

In a moribund valley Virgil lets go your hot palm;
Alighieri collects the dividend of inoculation, it but

a multiplied rose. Nintendo’s sorely pixeled sprite
shuffles stupidly in pajamas silk striped or legibly

manufactured in ash, forked vegan tender in hand.
Bound for plates the macaroni tumbles, MacBook

unpacking the victims baked in a Finnish mosque.
A funny thing’s happened to JPEG, on the way to

the forum Norton blurbing: Potentially Malicious.
Saint Francis, the pigeons suggest, couldn’t shape

a clay in that medieval damp. Not without prayer,
flat, piteous sandal tapping upon a potter’s wheel,

mystery whirs of ochre and ceramic fume, aspects
a lyricist couples with carnal gibberish. Favorable

issue from the innards of sundered bird, assure us
tangled spells backfire; pupil regurgitating Hegel,

teach ancient publishers collage and give context.
Blooping around as the farmhand struck a match.