17: We don’t want to be a second late — I’m hellbent to get it down again, to write the beauty of your eyes where numbers number (poets lie) — hidden with only half the story in time to come.

That, yet by your grace you should live twice. Tho who will believe these touches are living parts of you without touching, without your offspring stretching all the way into the night, keenly inanimate tho alive all that time.

You said no way, I only half like it, blah! / This poet lies
...lies, but no less truth than tongues filled with living rights to an antique song...