I lay a line on the land
     I section off an angle
     a monad
     a box
I made with my hands a ladder leading earth to earth
the distance behind you
         umbilical      a baited line
the horizon
is a gasping mouth      all lips
no teeth

     this is the way to build a railroad

each man is my hand and my hands have many faces
there is an open box on the land
the shade of the dirt
is dull yellow
with
     scattered pebbles      grey      or yellow grey
the shade of the dirt outside is the same
     I frame the crucial parts
     only I see the potential in the flatness

and then it takes the spike

I have many eyes of iron ore
I build the body that would absorb
     a new speed
     they make words for moments like this
     when the traveling grey smoke
     collides with the strike and sweat of will
what we have made larger will be small once more

         I am reinventing the distance between coasts