I, myself, am not going to talk about I, myself. I'm
just trying to stay alive and remain afloat. Intentions,
like a knife, stab me - fortunately it's a circus-rubber
knife. I can still get up after the pierce. But I cradle
all these bad intentions too. Landscapes fall away.
Must be in trying to explain : the pace of the world
confounds. Road kill, by the dozens, seek an explanation.
'Give me an answer,' they say, 'for I am dying here.'
(The land this farmer owns is not his own).