at the base no one quite knew how late it waswhen it was too late: i came backa breeze took my hand, the courtyard recognized me, as always, without wakingi picked out the old names on the name platesbein, puhahn, henke, brumm, i let them dry no clothespins on the clotheslinewhere there was a puddle,…

first his breathing then his pupils I watch his mouth its furrows its swells slight circle of his irises the black hole a tube he sees me impulsion an implicit programmatics ascension the facades the borough remanence of Rio  a yard a garden the staircase winding its gradations compelling the maples alongside the false acacias…