"a splinter of my imagination*
sometimes flares up from a word *
and sometimes from the smell of salt*
and I feel under me*
the ship shift from foot to foot*
and the ocean is immeasurable*
without any shore*
secure in a shell of wood*
I am wonderfully free....(...)*
lifted above myself *
with thirsty lips*
I drink up space...(...)*
you live but for a while *
and time-*
is a transparent pearl*
filled with breath(...)*
if I had as many lives*
as the colorful little balloons*
that man is holding captive *
I'd be extravagant*
I'd scatter them over the sky*
and let them get tangled *
in the wind and clouds*
and in bird's wing*
for myself*
I would put aside one*
a green one*
like leaves*
like blades of grass.......(...)*
within the abstraction called time-*
I'm drifting*
and straying*
...*
trying to catch time red-handed....*"
