Patchwork, Found

Here's a Patchwork Poem:
She sits with
a waste of breath the years behind
floating on moss-coloured water
on little cat feet
and then moves on
beyond the porcelain fence of the pleasure garden
pawing at the green porcelain doors of the remote Heavens
and a man comes out of the trees
comes like an idiot, babbling and strewing flowers
and builds a Heaven in Hell's despair.

And found poetry:
Attention all Walmart shoppers
the time is now 11 o'clock:
Walmart's official closing time.
Please make your way to the front of the store
where our cashes will be closing down immediately.
Have a good night.