Complicated movements in mind
as if eyes knew not what it
recorded
so so many stories running each other
down
years on years the faculties
of my being took down notes
one by one
what I called my consciousness
which rolled everywhere

springs and new clothes
smelled so nice
they feel nice too now so
tell me my mother
why do i still ask about death or
what is there to learn of death

The teachers punished me
so did my habit not to learn
in memory of my teacher
who never gave up on me
I would write an ode
this I promise
a sacrifice