Dropped like an egg from a tree. Expensive signals flashed in the moonlight or midnight. Semi serious stones wearing themselves out on wrists reaching for the decanters. Loss isn't so important. When nothing lies there wearing its ring.
Methods reduce themselves arms wilt watches drop.
The T rler, even the T rler loses time. This water's blue day in the pool the lake beyond its rim, even that temple quoting distance like a hypothesis, the one tricked by fog, three columns reduced to two. This water's depth and splash in a few months emptied of its arrangement, its dish. Later a black strewn room. The painter gone, disappeared his garage, his pottery flowers.