He thinks he is making a house
Silly man strange young man
Frown lines furrow his brow
Deep as the ditch he stands in
He is ready and willing to begin
He flays his sweat dripping skin
He shucks his pink muscle
He breaks his yellow bones
Bone upon bone upon bone
In 4 by 4 by 4 marrow glued
Till he has his skeleton frame
A single crow shakes on a tree
He works the flesh and knots
The redwhite tendons
Wraps the meat tight
Sews the hide looks good
Looks just like him but less
Slack more defined
And tanned to boot
He opens the casket
On his hinged knuckles
Stows inside the swimming lamp
He climbs inside his inner-cage
The leather door shuts itself
Silly man strange old man
It is far from a house he has made
