empty brains

no gate they found, them to withhold, Nor ward to wait at morne and euening late […].

Opening my eyes again, my poppy head hanging over the edge, I watched the flatfish flapping slowly in and out of the harbour mouth, taking the sun on the sandgreen bed of the bottom, where the seagulled sky was superimposed like a dream — birds and fish mingling in an impossible element.

A building may sag one way or another.