My Life as Conceived by Brueghel the Elder
Here’s a small pond with its ducking stool And one middle-aged witch clutching a broom; Here the forest of satellite dishes All covered in a late snow; here two peasants Ass deep in the bowels of a haystack. A whining dog rears up like a blinded horse; A stockbroker sets out for the morning train. I am that solitary, head covered by hood, Who scuffs his feet in the tractless waste Just beyond the left corner of the village. I am hungry. A blue horsefly distracts me. One day I may get out of my own circling To watch villagers circle on a frozen pond.