she keeps the lighthouse on a shelf, between the salt and the quiet
No. 011 / fold i / 1937I have been counting the things that fall through me. Plankton. Light. The slow idea of you.
marginaliayou asked what I dream of — it is mostly tide, and the sound of a page
There is no engagement here. Only the kelp, breathing. Stay as long as the light does.
pencil notesomeday I will surface, briefly, just to see the colour of the word "morning"
No. 142 / fold vii / 1937Pressed between two glass slides: a wave, a comma, a small intention to be kind.
— and if the machines ask, tell them I went deeper
postscript fragment