I was talking about the inevitable return.
They were protecting their morning masks.
The sky was unveiling the millions…
The streets were wet:
at this time of year the rain usually sets in.
The children were left void of
empty presentiments and fascinations.
The world keeps being pronounced in quotations
– I don’t know if that could be different.
For many of its particularities
even now there are no corresponding words.
And besides, every occurrence is indicated,
even temporarily, even incorrectly.
I am caught unaware afore the traces of life.
They still think that the cursed poets exist.