I MAKE
Like a glitter of gold I make
something out of nothing, or
I tend to think I do. What mode
of ravishment can this be? A
mouse along a floorboard or a
cat up in a tree?
-
All along I've nourished myself
for nothing so great as a germ;
a comforting solace, a disease
to die from. All of the hospitals
rise up as one.
-
Now the lighthouse itself is
falling beneath the waves, and
what will all those mariners do?
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