Ode To Blank At times, I see you walking At the edge of piled steel At the limit of our limitations To imagine how you feel At times, I see you squirming In the wake of everyday In the wash of common-placence Where it laps at disarray At times, I hear your “so-your” voice In the violence of a phase (In the violins of a phrase) In the abstract of “just-so” thought At the meeting of our ways