Bottom the Weaver, Dreaming
(after A Midsummer Night’s Dream)

In memory of your element, your bones, be
(whether in the wrong or not) in
The mind of flesh, what in
The main would seem not in
Short supply but always in
The works, waiting to happen, as if in
The lap of the gods still… Be
In the least or in the most in
The groove of full swing, for it’s here in
The blood.… In
Any case be
Unbusy and in like Flynn in
The beesy clover, if only in
The eye of the beholder (whether in
the cold or not)… For in
The balance, when out of hatred or malice or
Envy or spite or contempt or meanness of spirit,
This’ll still be out
Of reach, and I’ll be out
Of touch—be
Then, in a nutshell, in
This zone of good faith listening
To what’s in
The wind, careful of being in
A fog sometimes where clouds are never sure of being in
The clear, thinking it through when in
A spot or on the spot, when setting or being set in
Motion in a circle, in or out
Of luck, in or out
Of patience, in or out
Of sinc, all, all in
Good time in
Yes your own sweet way.