Pale youth with burning gaze,
I give you three commandments now:
Follow the first: don't live by the present,
The future is a poet's only place.
It's all so familiar and clear,
My eye's accustomed to every turn;
I'm not mistaken- I'm at home;
The wallpaper flowers, the chains of books...
The shadow of uncreated creatures
Flickers in sleep,
Like palm fronds
On an enamel wall.
Electric moons glow
On long bent stalks
The telegraph wires hum
In gentle unseen hands;