The dreams enter their own process of revision, of falling downhill, etching designs into the head…
A passenger, two, then three, parted ways, up aboardA goodbye, a see you soon or I’ll miss you are whistled aloud…
Saddish
“It’s a desperately vexatious thing, that after all one’s reflections and quiet…
What will I do nowthat there’s nothing else to doThere’s the bedto be made, to insert, finally,the book mark folding the now-ruined cover…