Stasis in darkness.
Then the substanceless blue—
In the picture I have of you, Melts in the wall.???
The idiot
A cleft in your chin instead of your foot,
your root,
I never could tell where you—
Put your foot—
For the hearing of my heart—
It really goes.
Reach for a hardcover book with his name
sprawled across the top. It’s only natural,
you consider, to be drawn in by philosophers whose
names you once pronounced phonetically.
