1119
mystery I am
once to this world
lacking all others
tuneful
with the cadence coming
and nobody knows how I end
but see myself as at well’s bottom
and at the garden’s wasting edge
each of us lost time
[shone in my own sweat there]
off with all manner of fairies
here we are spun
and a number comes up
gone on a path that is lost
where are trees?
by birthdays once
I wished a way
as if time were achieved
in all this
a body spoke
never guessed
what must have been meant
a disappointing machine
past breath
past itch
past ache
my journey’s with you
into the namelessness
no one can know
how far
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