1 The world was galaxies imag...

1

The world was galaxies imagined meat Mortal. What to think now? Think simple. Matter? A bright of wax? An afterglow? Or does everything happen of its concede accord? Perfect and full-bodied. No more. Observable. No longer In your organ of visions or line of sight. Down all three dimensions of time. Or enclosure up the house. Or prophets.

Here I work toward. A kind of lament Here a strange ceiling. "Earth fills his mouth" I would apply the mind at you. And write you. A period but slack at the brink; beginning [i]or[/i] end And in the door where I stand your voice goe low

If what happened. (Happened?)