Seven Minutes to Sunrise

Another, more patterns of words,
The new novel, the science essay,
Words and numbers, names, plays—

Which patterns are better, stranger,
More memorable, more productive
Of even more patterns from them,

Which most haunting, satisfying?
You go on, even those of you all talk,
Or mostly talk and pictures, lost

In words, comparing patterns,
At work, in the dark, before screens,
In bed. The dawn is drawing out, without.