Most of the day

We were at the machinery

In the dark sheds

That the seasons ignore

I held the levers that guided the signals to the radio

But the words I receive, random code, broken fragments from before.





Out in the trees

My reason deserting me

All the dark stars

Cluster over the bay.





Then in a certain moment

I lose control and at last I am part of the machinery.





(The belldog) Where are you?

And the light disappears

As the world makes its circle through the sky.