In The Air, There Your Root Remains,

With A Changing Key, You Unlock The House Where The Snow Of What’s Silenced Drifts. Just Like The Blood That Bursts From Your Eye Or Mouth Or Ear, So Your Key Changes. Changing Your Key Changes The Word That May Drift With Flakes. Just Like The Wind That Rebuffs You, Clenched Round Your Word Is The Snow.

They've Healed Me To Pieces.

Reality Is Not Simply There, It Does Not Simply Exist: It Must Be Sought Out And Won.

You're Rowing By Wordlight

The Two Heart-grey Puddles: Two Mouthsfull Of Silence.