The Sculpture Garden

The Rodins are having a cocktail party--
The gang's all here: the Burghers and Balzac,
The headless man and the crouching she;
The Miró-bird calmly contorts in place,
While the Yoko Ono "wishing tree"
Turns brown and drops its leaves.
Nearby, a rabbit bangs a drum,
(It isn't a donkey�"just look at its tail!)
And--drifting through all of this
Stylized stiffness in wood and bronze--
A trio of limber flesh-and-bloodniks,
Who take for granted sight and motion,
Pass instant judgments on timeless clumps,
While blindness and stasis comprise the norm
For these homebodies stuck in their sunken square:
Kinesis exchanged for longevity.