all twelve stories and across the street, where two llamas were
hitched to a lamppost, looking confused. Thought they were sculptures,
as porcelain cows graze about town, then one moved.
posing for reporters, neighbors stood by talking, all looking confused.
Watched awhile, then what can one do except draw
back and acknowledge the emergence of something unnamable? Something
that overwhelms a merely economic or anthropocentric concern for
the environment? An utterly mysterious sensibility, underlying the
ecological webwork, has closed the curtains.
Knowing is being
able to find
a path by reading available
signs where no path exists.
|Later that evening,
Two puddles of