Page 6

A short poem about symbolic residue and human passage: printed signs, drawn lines, and 'no song left unsung / At the ends of our faceless imagination.'

The page now reads as a clean lyric rather than a letterhead object. Its central move is to connect footsteps, walls, signs, and body-image into one field of traces, where imagination gathers what ordinary passage leaves behind.

An unbroken lyric in which 'The world awaits for us to believe / What once we thought we had conceived', tracing how passage leaves residue - footsteps walked away from, signs that 'cry to us', lines that 'draw themselves / Through the stones of our bodies image' - out to 'the ends of our faceless imagination'.

The poem makes belief lag behind conception: the world is still waiting for us to credit what we already dreamed up, and that lag 'tingles there behind / The footsteps we walk away from'. Crucially it happens 'Without our mind / To remind us', so the traces accrue on their own, autonomous of attention - signs cry, lines draw themselves, meaning keeps inscribing the body even as the walker moves on 'through walls of no space at all'. The closing 'faceless imagination' is the chilling turn: after all the symbols and signatures, the imagining itself has no face, so the abundance ('no song left unsung') belongs to no one in particular. Read as one continuous block, the form enacts the argument that passage marks everything at once rather than in discrete steps.