2: We never come across it here.

Slow, like never before. Yet a thriftless parabola intersects feeling its pedigree (that was).
Face to shoulders, gestures are precise thru your eyes, the viewer’s glass.
These are proud motions out — the viewer’s eyes. Warm and cold climbing down a first, second, third hill. Falling lower there’s a new quad mainstream-underground

with deep-sunken eyes — we — some of us — avoid. Of small worth. Will

you recover mine? Renew me? how much? let’s call back
successive coordinates, summed up in fair praise

remembering pleasures of the eyes! neck! and chest!
Yes there..