And Over Time This Individualized Commentary Grew

Think of us as mosaic
Tapestry, for a moment,
Many pieces of text,

Text tiles, like a quilt, like that,
The slowly growing annals
Of phrased word worms, nothing much,

As if life’s lost moths came back
To that life’s moth-eaten drapes,
Like monarchs to Michoacán,

And ran it back, producing
Curtains of a strange reverse
Embroidery of patches,

A cloak to suit a shapeless
Monster. Think of this like that.