What has been gathered
A snowflake, a feather
Cut off the telephone
Sweep up the wood
No sun, no sea, no light rising
I do not quite recall the face, tho light still glows
Pause, but then get on
The earth will lightly cover them
My little man, my man, what gave me life
The greatest, inside the smallest
The streets are cold, the houses dark
After the shipwreck, the reef and pretty fishes
After snow, what a tree!
There were people who loved him, who hoped
Whatever intent the sky
Like a ship, some say, as it dips from sight
How was it? Before? After?
Into clay, and yet I hear breathing
Listen, you need to understand...
What it was was money, what it was was waste