Any intenton in this rambling incoherent mess is is purely

unintentional. This is one of the stupidest of the poems

published in Slate

the flower blooms

the tree grows

and when the time comes

for the tree to be a table or a chair

or newsprint or student and computer paper

and the flower becomes any new flowers then we know

to end is to begin

to be better and more useful

just as gee brings more things to light

a start of eternity

life without end

the light of the universe let there be light

will the last one who leaves this galaxy

turn out the beam me up spock

we headed home take it home

houston we are heded home

splashdown

the challenger has landed

amen

While I initially would have agreed with you, richard, after re-reading, I believe the beauty of this poem lies precisely in its "rambling" - the poet echoes his message in his presentation. The poem "moves...uncertainly," "mak[ing] its way among its moments." Ferry then lets it take its course (to paraphrase), seeking its completion. In so doing, though, the poem (to personify) appears to avoid "the death that is coming" through the continuous reiteration of the same thoughts and phrases, thereby "putting it off, oh putting it off."

Somehow if this poem were submitted by Joe Schmo, a poetry editor would lose patience after the tenth line. Ferry tries to alter the meaning of intention and it doesn’t workThings have purposes, sentient or partially sentient beings have intentions. That alone would not be fatal to the poem. But the constant repetition, the vague generalities, and the rambling create obfuscation for the sake of obfuscation. I suppose some readers will find some "intent"in this dense double talk, but it this were written by someone not in the loop it wouldn’t have been published.