How can mood become cloud touch? How can I get
parent fear published? Where should I submit
the world that rushes by at your fingertips?
How do I format the light’s changes?
Is the house any help? Do I need a friend?
Can I make an easy thought of the rain?
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Nobody should be allowed to burn the story.
If they do, there must be rain; horizon
of hunters in orderly rows!
With age, the place fades and fades rapidly. Well,
we reach the dim boundary–the whole limits
of a small life. There, a girl measures the
rooms — and we search among the open school
of your head for landmarks that are
even more lean. The search will continue.
Not until the fine resources are exhausted
need we pass on to the fine realms
of the other rooms.
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