Sometimes it seems the world is churning
Around us like we were trapped in a giant stomach,
Like something large had swallowed us,
So ravenously hungry it forgot to chew
And now we’re all being slowly digested
Tossed and frothed in a peptic darkness
Sorrows and joys, hair and bone
Dissolving in the hydrochloric acid
Of a burning inevitability.
But all to good purposes—
Corroding us into a bilious muck
That improbably nourishes.