SOME LOST WORDS? Meaninglessness… A room, any one. With colors, lights, smells, That remain there, Vacant, Among blazes of romanticism. A tyrannizing ceiling. And nothing else, Except unreliable visions Bumping against walls. And that might be it… In spite of the silence. Or maybe, quite simply, a closed circuit, Rid of poetry Leading nowhere, In ancient circling motions. Nothing really resting on our shoulders… What an odd, passionate relief!