The Washer Kicked and rusty, Discarded by who knows who I stoop to feel the rough Circumference of each

perfectly visible hole Two circles there before my eye One in and one without I see the perfect symmetry What s seen and what is not !or no bolt which this spacer fits can be but what it is " seed of like geometry in time and space and bliss The dreams of hasty men lie here Inert in this forged thought !or washers once discarded #irth the shearing of the nut $o those have found their dreams are bound To follies of the end% In reaping, sowed, their arrows, bowed, In ashes at the #end