13 january

over the undercard and twice as loud -- echoes of some other lines, some undertripped wires tired of the journey and the spinning sense of self travelling in uncertain directions and always the mud -- but for the rain there would be none, but for the sun we could not know -- the words that come instead, unread and misbegotten, caught in between rhyme and meaning, seeming always to be on the brink of better but stumbling always just at the wrong step --