That warm sleep of a cat counted in long hours, and we
we so dogged, crafting speech as if it were the climbing ivy, sure growth
You, you be my crystal ball, and I yours, we double the future
in our words -- as if that would, as were-it-so -- to bring the mutual end
of the entropy in the system called the universe, and we
the malcontents in its side, bearing ourselves from within and out
the brain-churned, tongue-loose lucifers, would-be bringers of light.