Whatdoes A Period Look Like

have passed the ages of the few meadows
of intimate then
when mankind was made of bronze,
telescopes, comets of the insane.

have passed without me, but I do not grieve, because these crowds

praise are the climaxes, are out of an improved loose
joy.

No one may be Dürer.
We will, therefore, particularly early, under the molecular
morning

being dragged into downpour.
The world is beginning, but not zero.
light in my window is silent.