Prologue

Keyboard of a Praxis 48

 

                       (perhaps like a piano's)

 

white keys

 

         now turned green: no blaek;

syllables without you

 

your stare hidden in this page

 

                         once covered with useless verses ages ago

 

(diaphanous sobbing under the bed sheets)

 

eyes still more indifferent spying on,

 

the target's perfect centre

 

                           There

 

                           here in your mind

 

and among lost items.