Page 67

This fragment condenses the surrounding pages into a few stark lines about order, death, a belated glimpse of grace, and a strange handwritten afterimage of knife and stove.

The page reads almost like notes toward a larger poem. The restored handwritten continuation makes the ending harsher and more bodily, pulling the angel line back toward appetite, threat, and heat.

A short page headed 'The cloth that tries to tie things up,' condensing the surrounding pilgrim-and-death material to a few stark lines: 'Reguardless of appearance, / or any arrangement for death / We see a napsack, a preist, / never say I haven't seen / an angel until today' (the typed spellings 'Reguardless,' 'napsack,' and 'preist' preserved). Then a legible handwritten continuation (added per scan review) yanks the grace line back toward appetite and heat: 'You drank for a knife / Like a crab on a stove.' The note-like brevity makes it read as a pocket draft, the angelic glimpse undercut by a sudden bodily, almost violent image. The page band is mixed but the reviewed handwriting is treated as scan-backed here.