a curveball 10 miles ahead
i can see it like the dust 
that settles, gently — oh, so
sweetly on the tip of my dry

too close, too far, too
                                                dispensed with. 





                                                 a landmine

                                                                       in the dirt. 

O let me never with folly live, 
But still be found where the garlands are:
For you know the singer, old as he is
Sings of remembrance even now:
And still of Herakles…

                                      — The Homeric Odes