(So sandlike those
er’ether cast t’oscillic, time-right, too
mid raggy clouds
they’r'hind turn-blown, and pour’d
with little by-left, low’en`d, in-side violet wrinkles…)

There the eyes that run
a-burnt to meet some comer new
for instants cannot want at them
or see their mem’ry’s flight,
too, still and fore in passing

my mind
her mouth
and theirs,
lies, where
she forgot
the when
and left
em’

and both of us we know the truth
of where love lies in time
so prescient how

now we’re both slipping
back and forth
beyond, behind, between the lines

where chance casts fatal, glancing, lies
to keep his circle
hyp-no-tized and I just dance

and then just at the end
the way he looks
as he begins to cry

I’ll keep that image
in my mind; a fond farewell,
that smile at
bam, blam, good-bye.