sketched elegy

if i were to die you might
never know, in this world
of unseen faces of imper-
ceptible becomings.

should you, i would
from the elegy on
the brimming plane
of the web-field

and yet, what would it
really matter if
it were to end since

it has already started
some time ago
                          in the white
spaces that punctuate.