[response to “Melting candles mean nothing none knowhow…”]
For the rest they drew water.
Rest of the time co-possible with this experience.
Eliot was not interested in tragedy.
But deeply to find for the rest of it.
Her hair hanging down she bent her neck over
a notepad where her hand was crawling.
For the rest of it she was unable to add noise.
The voice carried far into the room.
I will carry it and always find it to be like
but not quite tragedy.
It has only three sides but abuts a wall.
Not interested but it gets no better for the rest of it.
Deja vu will be a welcome feeling after the revolution.
Please for the rest of it
just one hand.
[read response: “She bit into a painted brioche…”]