?  – 1                                                                                                                            What’s what? Adios. The world                                                              was thought; immortality,                                                              80,000 beds. Numbers                                                              were children, each one a home.                                                             Honey closed little, little                                                              paths: long faults too dark to know.                                                               What’s what? Adios. The world:                                                              Song Immemorial                                                              Adieu trout. Nevermore night across                                                             long whispers of rain. Forgotten once,                                                             dear ground, mother’s tiny stone: the moon.                                                              House, roofless; here, […]