concrete poetry

braided and woven
i've won the race
there's one that i once loved so much
doubtless i remember still
it was many and many a year ago
some one complained to the master
a sky that has never known sun, moon or stars
in your flight
in all things not spoken of
when night drifts along the streets of the city
two rows of cabbages
up to her chamber window
to be able to see every side of every question
there are gains for all our losses