time is on our side, nsleep is slow, nand underfoot is only the world nthat chimes cued by man-time, nbut we have a soul, nso we don’t need a face nwe just need a home; nnno eyes to see the smile above the chin, nand no nose to smell the breath within, nand no ears beneath the receding hairline. climb with all your ropes tied in a bow nand curdled down to the white bone, nwhich fray and whip till they sing, nand slip in the line n“we don’t need a face, nwe just need a home”.