'he had questioned her too brutishly[...] through his silence, his waiting' p.1
awaiting always in verse
he shyd from banks of prose
and hid in the whirls of running
pools far from stagnant entroping
and yet rather than keeping silent and waiting he could never quite stop shrouding her in writing. he wanted to answer her though he knew not how. that was the problem with water, the sonic barrier that it was to his entropy. and so he stayed in the river for now. he knew she would rather he be in the room. he would be very soon. but for now the barrier needed to be sonic. through his questioning of her, length became continuance again.
