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everyone will be home playing with
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Only the infinitely faint
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I feel the spring far off, far off,
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I plead with time, / adamant, remorseless. So we begin
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I read that staring into space “can help”—but can’t remember what it helps with, thinking or not thinking.
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When you at last begin to seize those things / which don’t exist,
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Redoubled at the jut of some far
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Please wait for the transmissions, however faint.
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We live our myth in the recurrence,
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Taupe is grayish brown. Mauve is kind of a dusky pinky
