Before I could speak I was glimpsed where the eye meets itself...
and blinks.

What kind of body is this? What will spring out next? A pimple, a wart, a boil, "an engine called an creates air pressure," a laugh out of place. Where will a new hair stand up and wave? Beneath the cutis, unaffiliated fluids are pumped sarcastically by muscles of the heart, tributaries of the River Styx on which ancient texts glide to their edifying source.

After decades of moisture, soaked to the core, the deeper understanding is seamlessness. And so we have the discovery of a developing universe that is, from the beginning, seemless. We are everywhere involved with the whole thing. In this framework I am thick as the roots of a Douglas fir, which is where this analogy ends.

I'll never learn
          to stand
              a tree.


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