WEBVTT

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This is a little poem
also in quatrains.

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With a foreshortened
last line, metrically.

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Very arcane stuff.

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"A Shape for It."

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"Sometimes when time
goes by I feel it bend.

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The day becomes the same white
room, and the day won't end.

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Its walls show no human scratch,
no useless wild attempt.

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And echo neither curse nor
cry, but do not relent.

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I wake amazed to be inside, like
an inmate slapped awake while

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dreaming of an endless field
where the sun makes festival

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of a girl's long yellow hair.

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And she sways to gather
her dress as she waits,

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and time seems clear as air."

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[CLAPPING]

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