All day I have written words:
My subject has been that. Words.
And I am wrong. And the words.
                                         I burn
Three pages of them. Words.
And the moon, moonlight, that too
I burn. —A poem remains.
But in the words, in the words
In the fire that is now words.
I eat the words that remain.
And am eaten. By nothing,
By all that I have not made.