ONE FIBER AND ONE CUT
Right now the wind is wailing and
a new season is definitely set in. The
wild trees are bent again. Even the
sky bears itself with a difference, a
form of gloom, maybe foreboding.
Things run in low as October comes.
-
Maybe those Florida dreams I hear
of make a good idea; but I'm never
sure of those things. I like the simple
ways here of solitude and forbearance.
A place for silence and a quiet tone.
-
It's like saying prayers at night when
you're a kid; comfort-zone stuff your
parents beat into your head. Better
than dread? I don't know, but I did
it - when I had to anyway.
-
Today the two-steps dance with nothing
at all - they have no basis, no reason or
role. Religion is an accident, like something
old-fashioned they may have heard of but
never tried : One fiber and one cut,
now, away from center.
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