Madness of Making

It starts at the fountain of white liquid gold.

Brick walls the closest thing to sky blue you’ll ever see.

Orange brick floor a shade off the flicker of flame- 

      a wet death trap, the ground that gives way

      to the fall to hell.

It is a wheel of innumerable locks with dates.

An electric sensorium, stretched over the line-

      wheels turning, jaws snapping and grinding teeth.

      A plastic river that breaks and stops and goes.

Men in white uniforms like orderlies- 

      keep the crazy process moving,
      we are explorers
      into the madness of making.