Here the railroads runs 'round the trees.
For something, or not for nothing at all.
The guy who works at Carrier, he lives
in that corner shed. I've know him
for six years now.
Like the schoolyard lunkhead always
around, what matters most to him is a
particular form of crowd control : the
idea of nothing out of the ordinary.
Is that still a vice? I'd thought this
entire land had now turned to anarchy
and brio, with everything just falling
where it may land.
A dictionary names the words that go
into the meaning of other words. That's
really a very deep concept, no? Sort of
a perpetual; fixture of both reference
and use. The how of all the whys.