The prose poem has changed due to English.
One presumes elements are strung together out of desperation and a deeply ingrained exposition to demark the unknown, much as technology funds and binds science.

The technology of capital. How did Auden begin? Green song of ourselves...

From Syria, Africa, Brazil to Hiroshima, back in Jerusalem graphic measures of tragi-comedic obliteration.

All this time Buddha and Buddhists are different things.

Knower and the known in physics, all branches, all matter — an open-miked state of big joy, electrons.

They’ll have us over when life and death melt down heads of compassion...