Now then when I think I smell really her I’m smelling myself;
back when I smelled her really how’s I’m smelling myself.
Thank god for hash to hew you me
when you’re feeling cold.

It’s out up then blindly.

Wind waiting
in this darkling
where that this pen
is writing—
ODE TO MARINA
—Thru a given glass of water
Remember, remember,
the high shelf, harbored letters?
Wicker seat,
linens, and too by fleece
sheep,
how I listened to you
and you listened to me