"...How terrible the stump of the woodmen,
     Their blunted shapes lumped under the sheets of snow..."
                         --Roy Doughty

From such a wrapping, the elegy proceeded,
the last blanket tucked below the bare
feelings extended, stripped of their green fingers like perception
following thought into deflection.  Abstractly, a silent museum
held power against the hill at a ***** of durable rock.  This
granite pulled thinking together in its form.

{ [ _ int f ( x ) d x d t = = del _ f ( x ) d g d E ] [ // ( y ; N , Z ) ] } .

It was allowed to like the experimental results of making lumps
under the sheets of summer, to be ironed and smelted
by the industry of the particular set, upon whatever planet
survival could be accepted, floating between work and the play
of its imagined universe, the sheets folded and placed

upon a shelf like numbers.

"...here, where the blades in the ceiling
          interrupt...
     this...is the place you left
          home to get locked out from..."
                             --Sally Van Doren.

Step again, and we move along
the haphazard course of tragic occurances
expressed as the passage of news events.
Elegant, the couple has immunity by
the honor of necessary respect.  In this
perspective, looking at the ceiling we, all,
see the patterns of the stars, currents
of speculation and the influence from space.

{ [ _ q int r ( q ) ] / ( d e , d n ) } =
[ d u _ ( x ) y ( N , Z ) ] .

After it had gone away, the memory was
a continuation.  Each comparison left its
emptiness; only the universe continued to be
a ceiling above the (floor, bed).  In the flowers,
the next springs bouncing through their
allotment, the years were reaching for
a prominent eternity.  The change of phase
being self determined, like the space of
quotation, the resolution adjusted the course of
needed, pine forests, needed barrels of oil, rain,
sustainable living becoming the fire

of the rebuilding.  This, we remembered with
journalism by interpretation, pointing to importance.

Chairs were creaking from the strain of ignorance,
as the habit of ignorant anticipation gripped the
edge of a creative moment to disrupt thoughts
which hoped to choose the pastel colors of an

expressive photograph.  Rather than deep garden
saturation, the light, fading to become ghosts
of movement, offered a place of acceptance.  Shrugs
rounded the shoulders of the road, so it could be
claimed that no responsibility hindered the

development of suspension systems.  Political
levitation supported the dancers as they turned onto

the public stage in a forum of occupation.  The state
of the street, in the absence of smooth nylon, brought
the parachutes down to flutter, disconsolately, above
the pavement.  Single waves of regret were drawn

to leave the stage, but, as this effort was declined,

determination measured resolve based upon
community options, described in the local papers.
Setting the pages down, each day, the play became
enamel baked onto the restoration and the satisfaction
which kept them all together as a group.  Certain
curtains were raised, as others were lowered to close
the door excluding the poor

from the equal share of space related to the experiments
of the place.

Conversation by clerks sculpted freedom to crimp the
brass cases in ways not accepted by sprites in mid
flight.  These were the colors in the ledger interpreted as
shades of gray or flashing midnight blue, faint copper,
and pearly white.  Forces of education were dismissed
as a superficial demonstration indicating the character,

intensive.

Thus, they were reaching for the money, but funding
remained a gift offered only to those admired and,
through the glass, profitable by cultural attributes.  Some
thought the process was the singular importance of an
event.  The dancers were dreaming, as they rehearsed.
Another kind of artist discarded the event in favor of the
documents and images meant to persist.  These, the
dancing players favored as memories to be contemplated,

some to be cherished.

Materialism, since it included spirit, ruled the transient
existence experienced as joy.  Perception brought
enjoyment into being, yet when the unusual critic walked
away, it was a dispossession.  Other critics were members

of the team.

"...He tosses the rocks
     in a pile.
     They roll together,
     exchanging the names
     of men and women
     stories of wounds,
     a few notes of music
     stones know..." -- Mary Rose O'Reilley (Half Wild Poems).

The boy breaks the rocks
against each other, with the other,
the girl, and the report
is clean in the dry air.  Children
like the puffs of dust, as they will
always like the fate resounding.

{ [ ind del int f ( r ) d r d ( N , Z ) d r ] / ( d y ) }
= { [ pi q ( u ) d q ] / ( d u ) } .

They favor the incredible knowledge
gained by surgery; the rocks, using
glue, are reassembled.  The threads
converse with the skin.

Colors are gleaming, like healing, from
within.

Powder erupted around the wheels of
the careening steel.  Many questions
remained added to the enigma,

the empty wreck.

Glances over the deployed air bag
indicated that the zeppelin would not
fly, wrinkled, as it was, by the impact
of the road.  Limits implied, in advance,
that the wheel could be expected
to break off of the parked vehicle, not

as often as a blue moon.  This warning
did not reach the pilot deeply immersed
in an adventurous dream.  A tree
arrived to confront the day without

troubles, and, from the leaves, a mistake
was coaxed into being through the use
of incredibly attractive and accented
meanings always intended to provoke an
event, the stormy scene which exploded

in a shower of sparks from the clattering

steel.  A long wait resulted in a deluge of
water across the green strands of hair that
were floating implicated by the color and
the formal presence lofted so easily into
the sky.  In this fashion, they were able to
send passengers far out into the universe,

entering the deep space, where cats became
stable creatures, and the long neck of the
new dinosaur was reaching through the door
of the hay loft asking to be allowed this
journey into the green rivers, which painted
hair, wherever they could be found.  The

stare of the eye, in this storm,

had a memory of endless days spent
manipulating aggravated spirits to create
trivial, game points.  Although winning did not
matter, discovery was losing.  It could not be

escaped with a simple misdirection.  The
crisis was in the middle between departure and
arrival.  The bewildered animals discussed this,
thoroughly, before deciding not to participate.
They were lucky when allowed to watch

quietly from a nearby star system.

Balanced on two wheels, the bell chimed
periodic lengths to extend the race sleeping in
chests in the hall.  It all related to experiences
floundering in relation to news events and
plans to engage in safe travel, indefinitely.

Declared to be the home of the ants,
the barn was, also, shared by the dogs
and the big lizards who stored
formidable teeth opposite the nipping
mandibles.  Each moment the favorite

spaces became temples traversed by
wandering dotted lines while,
certainly, a pause to clean the claws

gave time for articles of memory.  Attire
provided a music festival to brighten the
warm days with delicate sounds within
dark recesses where chilly dust filtered
the beams to secure the rafters.  Along

these trails, the plight was relieved; the
threat was removed to slumber waiting

for a wind swept rush of fur.  Pulling
the shutters back from the eyes, the
working specks of the ants proclaimed
their choices and followed these
implications into predicaments leading
them to be wise.  The influence

demonstrated the passing of lives into
praise for the correct answers by which
the ways advanced to persist.  There was
plenty of empty, sweet time hovering
above their heads yet leaving them
impatient to see a transpired eternity,

gathered in a massive tribe, ready to
explore the encroaching season with its
microscopic grasses and piles of stone.

As an institution, the old, red building

weathered its boards in the valley,
forgotten by more pragmatic industries
in cans and bottles of plastic.  To wear
the collar of the ant or the lizard was a

rare honor not granted in the homes

of many house wives.  It was as rare as
gold to find lodging with the fascinating
mercy of the human outlook.  It was a
great deal of trouble to look after these
others, small or large as they might be.
Seemingly, it was difficult to explain the

logic intended to regulate the wild,
independent lives, and, as they were
misguided, an anger tended to drive them
closer rather than away.  Under the skin,
it was very close to an intolerable form of
humor, but what explained itself as being
very funny also remained the hostility
alienated and inevitable, like the slamming
horns of the sheep and goats, like the poetry
of the birds and the herds.

After the inception of the new, high speed way,
luck beheld a continuation that increased
velocity even more.  Stores, beginning through
optimistic (sails, sales) filled with industrious
wind currents, began to perish, because the dust

crept in to forget and never start again.  Trade
was offered from one to another, likely to achieve

practical results, but the consequence was a loss
of heritage.  All that had gone before stumbled
out the door into darkness and surcease.  Absence
was abandoned as the light walked away into
the desolate remains which, in only a few days,
left the city, and commerce, stalled with people,
everywhere, standing quietly like burlap dolls.
The sound was pouring light outward from its
eyesight to remember something other than that

which had been lost, inserted and devoid; the
former ideas drifted to become a trace of the new

prestige.  Communication overwhelmed the hope
though hope endured.  A collection of machines
was learning to live together, and to attend night
clubs with astonished amounts of stress arguing
against the comprehension which insisted that
importance was captivating the subjects of change.

Always, they were slinking into the circuits,
coloring the programs with a steady pace that
receded to neglect functionality.  Those tired of
hearing about the clocks winding down were not
escaping the clever snares set for their awkward

feet and kept among delicate fossils of brilliance.
It might have been a global fever, or perhaps
everything just ceased to operate.  Some strike by
electrons offered them the predicament, and
the opportunity, returning them to a simple form

of human sentiment, so that smaller gatherings

arrived at the significance of a tale while burning
things on sticks above the campfires flickering
along the coast and seen inland at the base of
distant mountains.  Simple arts included using
furniture and hot air balloons driven by stainless
steel burners.  Talking too often, and to a point of
foolish interruption, demonstrated the frailty of
coordination where zeros and ones meant,
essentially, that a point had been made and lost,
although fighting confusion was denied by context.
Some of this was mistaken by preconceptions that
created impractical situations, and other things
were long walks glued to comfortable boots or

reliable shoes.