26 July 2012

















1934
We are the deceivers;
We hide in the sun of hours
Borne with a still face.
Were re-acquaintance made
With a day's motion
What mask would fall,
What new-lit surface show?

19 July 2012


















1926
In the time of fever
May all things seem
At once close and far,
Unattainable,
And the measure of oneself.

13 July 2012

1921























1921
The evaporation of a salt drop
Conjecture:
The absent clock
Ticks still the quiet room
In the daily air where your voice
Is in expectation heard;
More still
Makes that complex space
Where a thought's the same as a tear.