1867
6.40
9.ii.25
the place I go is sleep
where one
thing is another
that’s nowhere
at all
my
handkerchief a fish
the hours all
gone around
I step
through the stream
considering
dinner
we’re nothing
we’re nobody
when we’re
there
the weather
is the main news now
still I’m the
hero
head for
irrelevance
and in these
same socks
step out
then all the
ache of me forgets
out of these
windows
the blue all
up
all bloom
the green as
far
as I can see
and none of
this is mine
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