4250. OK THEN

OK THEN
This is the willow in the wallow - and make mine work.
I stand next to the embankment - sixty feet down,
there is nothing but more of nothing. Many things are like
this; many are not. Between the two, there's me and you.

-

I may have nothing to say about that. Just think of

me, speechless and transmogrified : mutant angel,

take me down. The valley below is calling.

-

I had a cabin in the trees. I left it standing.

Now, even the demarcations of the things

we know best  -  painted leaves, day and night,

noise and seasons, life and death, even all of

those, mean so very little at all. They mean

so very little now at all.