Machines and Engines of Fetish

Machinery is everywhere.
Giant cooling towers and
little hamlets of
electric boxes, and trees
that are just telephone poles.
The engines pump and piston like
regret and solitude. That is what fetish is:
no thing and ev’ry thing. The little things
collected in jars and studied ‘til they break...

and are made trees again by time,
fetish’s eternal foe and friend.