"is this ticket redeemable" Once I thought that poems had faces whose silent plans offer checkered meditations, who weave endings to hope´s beginnings, whose raw robust smiles explode in dizzy contemplations, who unravel strings of time into quantum fits of rhyme. Then I saw that Songs are A singing Where I From my Self- Emerge Unstating myself (abandoning grammar as prepositions avoid place) I say (failing to claim that time gave birth to nothing) that my! “God (being an adverb) I missed the boat”