4600
|
Days you don't call—
with neither warmth nor thrill,
I can't help but stand
|
105554
|
this is where we end --
the exorbitant eye of forgotten days.
|
1037157
|
but most times/
it’s just improvisation//
with phrases of unknown origin/
swirling in my head
|
844146
|
I am the ritual/
banalities of days numbered,/
numberless, and numb.
|