I like your dark and your silver too.
I love your single tormented memory
That sighs beneath the air.
Shuffle me, mix me up.
Still I am the blessed dreamer,
That clutches you while you sleep
Hollow I sit
Fading
Reappearing
Making love sightless
I’ve crossed and I’ve come abroad
Still you darken
You meet my ambitious hands
Yet closer still
At six o’clock you curl
You doze among the impatient, innumerable
Palms of pearl
A Dead Language 