This poem was running through my head around the same time as I was having a conversation with my optometrist, Marc Teles, about making a book to fit into an eyeglass case. I said that the one that I was holding in my hand sort of looked like a coffin which prompted him to say that he had one from a line of glasses that they no longer carried that REALLY looked like a coffin. Then he pulled this out and offered it to me.

This has, perhaps wierdly, been one of my favorite poems for a long time. The text runs right across the whole piece sort of like fallen leaves.