The strength of the genie comes from being in a bottle.
Outside the open window The morning air is all awash with angels.
Odd that a thing is most itself when likened
What's lightly hid is deepest understood.
Happy in all that ragged, loose collapse of water, the fountain, its effortless descent and flatteries of spray.
That's the main business of the poem!-to see if you can't make up a language that sets all your selves talking at once-all of them being fair to each other.