Stations II. 2001
Confined in the most fleeting days
â€˜tis but a moment youâ€™re drawn to â€“
rippling the images of destruction,
and drownâ€™d by autumn in the lake of your palms.
Youâ€™re able to lean closer and closer
to the tarn of the final minutes,
you watch how recognitions get on with
their jobâ€“on your face.