1444
a day that wasn’t there
the
house we know
and
someone coming
ideal
a
planned embarrassment
tiptoe
weather
creeps
beginning
the Sunday month
moon
blue
whom
have we eaten?
and
why?
not
meaning to
but
itch of years, how many?
I
take a death
and
give
not
I nor any
insisted
upon
the
ink soaks in
beyond
us
the
hours come
after
me
so
many won’t
who’s
to call them now?
all
in fact
all
and everything that is
won’t
be
who
will say ‘survive it’?
we’re
for instance now
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