The language is fractured but, I think, not meaningless. How is a person to know the grandiose and darting mind of God in the midst of dishtowels and pieces of laundry fuzzing out of each other? What is the great throbbing beating? I don't know, but the whole thing says domestic life in a new way.
I awake possessed by God
and annex the darting mind
to replace it and make it know
flung up in a dishtowel
with a sweater fuzzing out of my skirt
But what should I obey or own
if I swallow my sense and my sword
in a great throbbing beating in my face?
Hello, hello, hello....
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