Heaps of ore
Sink my words
Seeking a long-deserted place
We find none

Infinite marks
Decorate the binding eyes
Beyond the cure
Time is a vacant field

Mary chords are struck
The impasse rends me blind
Movement behind the white
Expands across the hours

These untied thoughts
Linger like misty rain
Each held thing
Is restless to touch

The imbued closeness
Finding that
None of the edges are firm
These dreams are filled with frost