434 May what's next follow, Post and prompter, in sequent obedience, As the proximate tile falls. Or-- may love's predilection be love As day and night in time's hapless frame, Neither wanting next, yet so.
432 In sleep, infiltration. By. In sleep you Sublimate day: Memory a water sheet Fading on hot metal night, Folding into dream sight. . Infiltrated by wind-wrought You, far, but in dawn-light clarity There you are.
406 These emblems of selves have crept beyond memory's compass, The shaded impedimenta of foregone need-- Once friended text and notes now unpurposed by time, Are heaped for a second removal in the neon cellar light.