It is a
          convenient flag

Well we'll all
                      arrive someday

The poem in a voice that's not quite mine
And as to what gave rise    its
                                              random flight

 'the poet's arrival in the city'
Steps becoming substance,
                                             words this
Wretched afflatus!

Who did his best with the
Intractable substance

It glistens inside —
Ambiguous shape-shifting country
As every honest citizen avers
In some desert and
                                 here is its language