the road unfurls an icy landscape, seen, not walked by bone-sore legs on frostbit feet face winter through a window, through a screen as wheels crush slush that vibrates through your seat gloves on the wheel, a scarf across your mouth you touch no thing and all that touches you was built to meet the hands you now reach out your only world's the made things world leaks through five thousand generations fought to tame the wind and lightning, growing things and ground give every object function and a name which we can call to answer to its sound infuse world with the internet of things then hang from it, marionettes on strings