crow's cry, soaring corner thrown by wingless words the spirit that enters the sky above the tongue, hovered over the flowing years as responsible as detached ignorance of the torment of feather dance, with papery calloused margins married by an unaccountable school poetics of oneself and external countries - separated, visited, sought in the night dear - a woman in the sands and during the day, in the light of the shadows of insects there is no pride, barbs, or vanity in her speeches in