let us not dissolve into scanty mimetics
the plurality and impersonality of plural nouns
not universal, it's formless
come on poets, discriminate
inhabit a small and infinite thing
the galaxy of stars on a black cat's back in the sun
the stars and strings in the bar of light going up
sunlight snuck through the slats of the vertical blinds
some nameless afternoon in a year gone by's November
a day betwixt Friday & Saturday in a roomy November of yore