The Last Least Past Path

Ralph tossed the roast towel off and sloughed the rough toast, kissed the fast plaster post and the glass master coaster, mashed flashy, fishy four-poster toaster tasters' gaskets in the basket. "You're wasted worsted vested oysters, pestered blisters, and crested twisted threshers, crushed and pressed in slashed washed patches of blanched pits."

Quickly, Stapely whisked the sticky licorice swizzle sticks, picking lists and pesky disks amidst risky pickled dishes.

A skewered annuity and a prudent stewed suety cruet of humus ruined two blue ewes in suede shoed and shaved glued shades. Whose raisin rosin raised racist reasons? Racine.

Read by a robot:

https://www.jhhl.net/Mp3/Otherness/The%20Last%20Least%20Past%20Path.mp3

Fable (1973 again?)

Once in the land of cotton candy there was a boy named Aluminum. Now, there were not many boys at that time named Aluminum, at least not as many as are called that now. Anyway, Alu, as people began to call him, has a deep affinity for poached robin eggs. The robins he stole from liked not this unruly, and in their point of view, cannibalistic behavior. So they held a meeting to see what would be done.
 "I move we peck his eyes out!", volunteered a violent radical member of the flock. "May all who commit such acts be so punished!" Most of the members heartily applauded this direct and effective measure.
 They snuck up on Alu in the middle of the night, but the robin who proposed the action crept silently back to his nest. Before they could peck out both eyes, Alu awoke, and chased them off except for a few, which he held for questioning. After grilling them under a 60-watt bulb for almost an hour, one of the robins became a stool-pigeon. The location of the nest where the plans were made was disclosed, and also the very nest of the culprit was pointed out. Alu came over to his friend Dysprosium, and asked him to assist him. Before the day was over, there were no raw robins' eggs left in the forest.

Moral:

Fable (1973?)

Harvey was a contented lightbulb. His best friend was a pair of scissors named Mannheim and Mathilda.

They sat together on a low table in someone's house. In this harsh world it is hard to find a pair of scissors and a lightbulb being such good friends. But even so, they were, and often discussed politics, theology, entomology, and nuclear astrophysics with each other.

But, alas, the mind of the scissors is only as sharp as its blades, and the mind of the lightbulb is only as bright as its tungsten. So this relationship was doomed from the start. Harvey got dimmer daily, and Mannheim and Mathilda weren't getting any younger. On a cold February morning, Harvey died. His friends couldn't bear teh prospect of a Harveyless life, so they were locked in eternal embrace and never let go until they were incinerated.

And when they all reached Metal Heaven, all the stars were dim at Harvey's glow and all the mountains dull by Mannheim and Mathilda's comparison.

Moral: Love Conquers All.

Pressure

I took a look at myself the other day and saw that there were impressions on my skin from sitting in a wicker chair for a few hours. I found that if I were to dust these impressions with paprika, I could press a tortilla on my skin and create a kind of reproduction of the chair pattern. 

Eager to monetize this discovery, I sat in many chairs and on many impressionable objects. I sat on combs, coins, origami, miscellaneous hardware and on nuts and seeds. each produced a satisfying edible print. After documenting the imagery, these tortillas were packaged in plastic and carefully tucked into the deep freeze for eventual sale. 

I found that I was running out of skin to impress. I had to impress my friends and family in order to press their skins into service. The deep freeze was starting to fill up.

After a while, I started to get press about my impressions. I pressed on with creating them. My technique was becoming refined, choosing patches of skin and angles most suited for the particular imagery. I branched out into other colors of edible powder: chlorella, turmeric, carob, and white pepper were among the new flavors for my palette. 

When I started sitting on a series of devotional medals, business started to pick up. I found that, with care, I could get several copies out of a single impression. My skin itself was taking on the appearance of a tattoo parlor's sample poster. 

I eventually branched out into gluten free imagery. I found that in this market, I could charge up to 30% more.

How To Do It

The first thing to do is unscrew the valve and roll up the bottom to squeeze out all the air inside it. Then, it's relatively easy to stuff the thing into the hole in the wall. Make sure you've driven the picture hooks into the wall deeply enough so as to be able to hang the concealing portrait securely over that hole. Next, you must paint the wall a lighter color than the adjacent walls, and move a chair or credenza under the portrait.

 

Taking a moment to rest on the floor, you can then start work on the medallion. Remove the retaining bolts which hold it to the ceiling and save them in a teacup. Carefully wrap the plaster medallion with wool blankets as you remove it from the ceiling. A quick dusting with diatomaceous earth will keep the fleas from propagating. Reach into the cavity and locate the gas cap. Twist the cap counter clockwise two turns. You are now ready to replace the medallion by reversing the previous steps.

The rugs on the floor are next. They often conceal the fact that the floor has not been varnished in the center of the room - 19th century floor technology was expensive. Roll back the northwestern corners of the rugs (the least affected by sunlight in the Northern Hemisphere). Seek floorboards that were obvious replacements. Often these boards are loose and can be easily pried up. Remove the boards carefully and strew pebbles beneath them before replacing them.

Remember: you cannot be too careful or proceed too slowly with renovations. Be sure to map out enough time for this process!

CENSORED: A Variety Cryptic Crossword puzzle

I really like variety cryptic crosswords.

I made this up more than 10 years ago: the date says Jan 20, 1999. I made it to run in my zine GLUM HOMEBODY. Rather than put numbers in the grid area, I use a kind of hex notation: add row and column to get the coordinate!

I might not post the solution unless I hear from YOU.

CENSORED!

Thirteen of the clues have had their definitions censored!

And for good reason!

0   1   2   3   4   5   6   7   8   9   A   B   C


+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+


|                           |                       | 00


+   +   +---+---+---+   +---+   +---+   +---+   +---+


|                   |   |               |   |   |   | 10


+   +   +---+---+---+   +   +   +---+   +   +   +   +


|               |   |                       |   |   | 20


+   +   +   +---+   +   +   +   +---+   +   +   +   +


|                               |                   | 30


+   +   +   +---+   +   +   +   +   +   +   +   +   +


|   |   |   |               |   |   |   |   |   |   | 40


+---+   +---+---+---+   +---+   +   +   +   +---+   +


|                           |   |   |   |   |   |   | 50


+   +   +---+---+---+   +---+---+   +---+---+   +   +


|                       |                           | 60


+   +   +---+---+   +---+---+   +---+---+---+   +   +


|   |   |   |   |   |   |                           | 70


+   +---+   +   +   +   +---+   +---+---+---+   +---+


|   |   |   |   |   |   |               |   |   |   | 80


+   +   +   +   +   +   +   +   +---+---+   +   +   +


|                   |                               | 90


+   +   +   +   +---+   +   +   +   +---+   +   +   +


|   |   |                       |   |               | A0


+   +   +   +   +---+   +   +   +---+---+---+   +   +


|   |   |   |               |   |                   | B0


+---+   +---+   +---+   +---+   +---+---+---+   +   +


|                       |                           | C0


+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+




To save space, the spots are described with "HEX" style

numbers.

Across:

00 As she keeps old without tail.(7)

07 Train in record return.(6)

10 Heard Frost.(5)

16 Confused endless Simon in soup.(4)

21 Swimmer enthralled in Amalfi shores.(4)

25 Special:"Closeups on cruise."(6)

30 Let us in desparately with knife.(7)

38 Inside mask: unknown critter.(5)

43 I and few are jumbled with woman.(4)

50 Led astray, rebuffed snappy dressers holding horror comic.(7)

60 Newark perversion?!(6)

66 Italian eight-person footstool.(7)

77 Red spy in Masschusetts.(7)

87 Fish with $1000 returns happiness.(4)

90 Facial aspect Small knot.(5)

95 California bean soldier: "Right! Left!"(8)

A2 Covering any cop dancing.(6)

A9 Rusian River, old English reed.(4)

B3 Calliope sounded cat whines.(4)

B8 Standard reversed with old idiot.(5)

C0 Victory again thwarted.(6)

C6 Uneven in Georgia, besides Minnesota.(7)

Down:

00 Terribly legal to be headless.(5)

01 Confusing Shah diet.(8)

05 Convict holds copper backwards.(7)

07 Number three seconds to surround England.(6)

09 Negative - Affirmative, that is. (6)

0B The Queen alone is crazy.(5)

16 Hybrid College in blown-over elm.(4)

1A Be American, empty to delight.(5)

1C Psychedelics advocate busted neck, man.(7)

24 Pressure: amount of mystic energy.(3)

38 F--- This!(4)

50 Swirling snows envelope an actress.(7)

5B Explode Bohr atom.(8)

64 Cleaver hidden by naked geisha.(4)

67 Cry at Holly madly.(5-2)

72 Second hair problem: too much oil!(5)

73 Alma is nuts for sandwich meat.(6)

75 Membranes are medium type of turn with Italian thing.(6)

81 Capital Zen chant? I get it!(5)

86 Lancelot Link - Yawn?(4)

8A Cloth, Sex goddess with me in the middle.(3)

8C Close, Senator.(5)

On Being Buried 18 Sept 1978

The earth doesn't kiss like a shy new conquest,
But suffocates you with the hug of a mighty aunt.
This is the great unreckoned thing:
the overall pressing of the soil.
Each breath, if not a struggle, is a puzzle:
one wonders why one breathes at all.
The wet sand tells you that your body ends,
But it seems to extend more widely beneath the soil.

The ground molds itself to you:
a hole forms into which you fit perfectly,
which soon becomes loose, collapses, and fits again.
Often beneath the surface you grasp handfuls of earth.
The earth holds you holding the earth.
It enters your ears and your eyes,
Your fingernails, your mouth.

There is a kind of pain in your prone stagnation.

On Farmas Flot: Dorian mode folksong in an invented Scandinavian language

On farmas flot min lufa stehet
Magre bene o tyn carn insammet
Teth så gertist o mymtisk desut
Ved basseten en thermet vealant noe tilkren
Not verbi veynmer utmot textra ventral
vestrans werolm peoplen temtor fentrost
et emmtrenge trowbt theng ecte e
dust imgovervigs td ventrent verts thotu
hemeds kurtt tyr trygget venathengte
mattensk matter

Parable poem (1977?)

On the great side
There are some who, like the cat
who triumphantly scaled a tree
have not the courage to descend.

Fragment: 1979?

He writes with the glee of a man who, having hidden himself in a convenient place, watches a boy write his name with a stick in wet cement, and he, a few minutes later, repeats the action, carefully looking about for fear of the authorities. For the act is an obsession, even if it is as harmless and transitory as a daydream, and his life is a succession of many such acts, driven by impulses and stimuli which which tease and pull, explode and whisper, beckon, hide, and vanish. In the dim semi-consciousness of his half-sleep, the walls of his room are like Jello, and then glass, and then air, weather affects him inside as it does the grass and trees; falling fruit invariably makes him fatter during the harvest; brittle grass makes him rue his awakening and prods his short temper; the thumb-deep mud and cumulous sky mollifies him and gives him hope; if the sand blows about his feet, supporting him in a peculiar way, he walks seaward onto packed ground and stretches in the sun. His towel served as his chair., his bed, his table, his clothing,his comfort, his protection, his shelter, and it was unsatisfactory in all these ways.

Amongst my papers: Summer 1979

Carolyn,Shirley, Suzanne, Phyllis, Dolores, Francis, and Harriet Smith.
Dorothy, Theresa, Michelle, Annette, Beverly, Rebecca, and Marlene Jones.

These were the names that I had to remember this summer as a memory experiment. They had to be in that order and in that way.

[experiment was at either Horace Mann or the Rockefeller Institute. each woman was the mother ot the next in the list, and there were questions like is Annette the grandmother of Marlene? Is Dolores a Smith or a Jones? etc. I "cheated" not by writing, which was of course forbidden, but by making mnemonic sentences for them (since forgotten). ]

How it all works.

It's almost a religious narrative:

1) You are to be born into debt. You shall pay your ancestor's debts, long after their deaths, to satisfy the legal rights of those who lent them the money to buy their houses, pay their doctors, and educate their children.
2) You take your place in the line of debt.
3) You "work." That is, you trade time and thought for the right to pay "your" debts.
4) Meanwhile, the unspoken debt to the earth grows, as you borrow from the earth to service your ancestor's creditors legal demands.

The Bastard's Lovely Daughter

This is an old folk song I wrote in 1987, when I was a big fan of the Fast Folk Musical Magazine and their monthly shows at the Bottom Line, the Speakeasy and other defunct NYC venues.

The lyrics could stand a little updating, but it is a political - kinda - song! When I wrote it, I was thinking of ballads of beautiful daughters of thieves and robbers, just updated for their contemporary counterpart. And there's not a little of "Love Me,
Love Me, Love Me, I'm a Liberal" in there too.

Disclaimer portion: It's also not at all a song about close relative of mine who was briefly married to a famous (liberal) politician's daughter.


Verse:

It's six o'clock and at the factory gate
A man is smiling, shaking hands with the assembly line.
Here's the TV crew from channel Eight,
He'll help the factory close next month but now he's looking fine.

Have you heard the promises before?
Have you read the things he voted for?
We elected him, he's ours. Drives around in chauffered cars.
In exclusive Capitol bars, he's quite a bore.

But Oh that bastard has a lovely daughter,
The sweetest woman ever came to Washington D.C.
A cultured tongue, a mannered hand, a well-kept figure
Think she'd ever come to love a liberal like me?

Verse 2:

In fifty-two he found a commie plot
By schoolteachers and actors and some guys who owed him cash,
He thinks about those vivid times a lot,
When single-handed he could yank on Stalin's big moustache.

Have you heard the promises before?
Have you read the things he voted for?
He'll take take cash from any hand, can be bought for seven grand,
Treads on honor as on sand, sells out the poor -

But Oh that bastard has a lovely daughter,
The sweetest woman ever came to Washington D.C.
A cultured tongue, a mannered hand, a well-kept figure
Think she'd ever come to love a liberal like me?

Verse 3:

He's toasted by the racists and the mobs,
For writing them amendments which he puts in every bill.
He's given all his relatives their jobs,
And everyone he knows has got their hands deep in the till.

Have you heard the promises before?
Have you read the things he voted for?
He had bugged a circuit judge, On abortion he won't budge,
Cleaning up the toxic sludge Is not his chore...

But Oh that bastard has a lovely daughter,
The sweetest woman ever came to Washington D.C.
A cultured tongue, a mannered hand, a well-kept figure
Think she'd ever come to love a liberal like me?

Verse 4:

I hope she isn't much like her old man,
I've seen her talk to blacks and give some quarters to a bum,
I saw her protest weapons to Iran.
I know she cheers the Skins whenever football season comes.

She hates "Dynasty" and MTV
Shops with coupons at the A&P
Though my income she won't need, She did not inherit greed,
When her dad has gone to seed She'll marry me.

And Oh that bastard has a lovely daughter,
The sweetest woman ever came to Washington D.C.
A cultured tongue, a mannered hand, a well-kept figure
Think she'd ever come to love a liberal like me?



// new verse 4 needed? after all, who knows what I'm talking about there!

Verse 4:

She's never shown an interest in me
Although gives to Greenpeace and protests the NRA
She's virtuous and also quite PC -
I saw her march with lesbians on last St. Patrick's Day!

She recycles plastic, glass and cans
Never air conditions, only fans.
Though she's living off her trust, It don't mean that she's unjust,
When her dad has gone to dust I'll be her man!

And Oh that bastard has a lovely daughter,
The sweetest woman ever came to Washington D.C.
A cultured tongue, a mannered hand, a well-kept figure
Think she'd ever come to love a liberal like me?

Questions I posted for the Candidates on Bill Moyers' site

There are six major related crises impending and in progress right now:

- climactic instability
More intense weather in places not expected, drought, melting polar ice, rain instead of snowpacks...etc.
- the end of cheap oil
basically, the end of the 20th century version of civilization.
- air, soil water degradation
brought on by non sustainable farming practices and externalization of industrial waste responsibility.
- financial turmoil
brought on by the replacement of investment by speculation.
- population explosion
brought on by people themselves and the means to sustain them.
- lack of political will to address these issues
Oh, so many elephants in the room.

As president, you actually have little real power to address these issues - but you should use the "bully pulpit" to educate the world on these issues and work out whatever legislation and treaties and inspire action. These crises are international in scope - much work needs to be done removing international barriers to addressing these problems, and the president acts as our chief representative in the world.

The pointless war being fought today will pale like a schoolyard tiff in the face of these global crises.

How will you address these crises and what advisors will you bring to help you?

----
I like many others here hope that all the candidates will be asked this question.

From Time Warner to Me (1993)

Here's a small book of poetry sent to me from Time
Warner Cable.
I have corrected the typography to correspond to contemporary poetic
layout standards. No punctuation has been changed.
— J.H.H.L.

  In a city
    of a thousand stories,
        cable TV has
           time to tell them all.

      CNN - Thought Provoking and Analytical.
10:45 pm.

   Barbara
   was helping Jerry
   pack for his business trip
   to Chicago.
     It was his fifth trip this year.
   Even after 25 years of marriage
    they still fought right before
     he went away.
   This way
    they didn't have to admit how much
     they hated being alone.
   They stopped fighting
   and listened to the news report
   about Bosnia.

      THE CARTOON NETWORK - Home to the Top Toon Stars.
3:51 pm.

   Grandma
   was watching
   Michael and Denise.
        After Michael wrote
         on Denise's homework with a red crayon
           he acted silly
     just like that dog on TV.
       They all laughed.
       They loved Droopy.


    HEADLINE NEWS - A Whole Day's News Every Half Hour.
9:32 am.

               Like usual
  the alarm didn't go off.
  Allison
                   jumped in the shower then
     threw on her blue suit.
  She didn't care if anyone
   noticed       the      wrinkles.
    She checked
    the ticker.
    She checked
    her watch.
    She'd be right
    on time.
   TNT - Originals, Sports and the greatest Movies Hollywood ever Made.
9:22pm.

   Tom and Michelle sat on the couch
   eating    beef and broccoli
     with chopsticks.
   They've been living together for two years. She's
         a lawyer. He's
         a social worker. They both
         had a terrible day and
           needed
             to
               escape.
         She       wants
                  to reminisce.         He
                  wants a score.


    T B S - A  Great Place for entertainment.
4:12 pm.

   Scott was practicing
      his swing with a 9
        iron in his living
          room.
   When he was a
     kid the things he loved
      to do were
                 go golfing with his Dad,
            watch a James Bond movie and
     look at the pictures in National Geographic.
         He          still        does.


At any given
   moment in your
    life, cable TV
      can
       make an impact.

Cyberspace Cowboy

The kernal's full of patches and the protocols are slow
So I just hit the hardware and it doesn't even know.
As long as software's written by a team of lamer nerds
The hardware will respond to you if you just know the words.

As I strapped on my eyephones and I pasted on my 'trodes,
I drifted into alpha as I  hacked away the codes.
I slipped inside the mainframe where the passwords all were blank,
And rustled 15 million from  the Central Euro Bank.

My dataglove was flaky and  my eyephones out of phase
The jitter in the timing pulse  extended the delays.
My duty cycle lengthened and  I felt the coming crash,
I loaded up some structures from  the swapped-out data cache.

When all at once the Supervisor signals and events -
The Cyber interface police has found my evidence!
I squeezed the glove and clicked the mouse and tried to use the Force,
But they had cracked my virus with a hairy Trojan Horse.

I couldn't interrupt them or defer their tasks from me
Or re-assign their swapspace to a low priority
So I just took their task ID's and put them in a queue
And vectored them to address NIL and hung the CPU.

I flatlined by the access port to watch for their reboot.
I plucked the 'trodes and cables off and threw them in the chute.
The FBI came knockin' with a warrant three feet long -
But all they got was "Space Wars" and a moldy game of "Pong"!

(circa 1988)

Unemployable Feathers

Lakes hold a special fascination for the dry.

The subtle lapping water, often carrying leaves and pine needles with it, the delicacy of the wetness, which is not at all like the pulverizing crush and spray of the ocean, coyly invites one to join it in its gentle pulse. Lake plants, growing richly but stopping inches below the surface, cluster by the rocks and in submerged gardens which can be best discovered with a submerged foot.

There are days when the partched air rattles the cane curtains and dust balls scatter over the newly swept patios.The corners of my mouth hurt. I don't need much convincing. The lake is audible. Water striders are practicing their moves in pairs by the roots of the shrubs by the water's edge.

Most people would prefer cautiously wetting their feet, imagining that the feet would convey a sense of what a more complete immersion would be, but I prefer the whole body approach. I step back. I make sure there are no floating branches or hidden rocks. I slick back my hair. A hot breeze eggs me on. I rise. I straighten out.

But I do not sink. I am repelled like oil off the surface of the lake, as if it were made of rubber.
The force of it bends my nose. I reach my hand into the water to use as a salve. Oddly, I hold a palm full of water like a melted ball. As I squeeze it, it acquires a clay-like texture and weight, which is not unpleasant. I found that I was floating away from the shore, which would be disturbing if I thought I were going to sink, but I rather felt that the situation was under control. The mass in my hand became birdlike. It grew down, a beak, and a tiny pulsing heart. Claws scrabbled at the ball of my thumb. Gently, I released the bird, and blew life into its feathers, whereupon it passed away, flopping over the water's surface. Now I was alone. I also had lost sight of the shore and the sky was a uniform mottled gray.

11/07/07

SLOW FOOD Nov 12, 2004

A soupçon of soup's on the stoop, son.
If I am whistling, it's because I'm about to boil over.
I'm ready.

Waiting for eating's,
not grating, defeating,
we're hating the speeding,
berating the seating.

You are what you eat.
Be slower ... eat slower.

Where is my order? And what is my order anyway? Primate?

If that tomato has no living relatives,
I don't expect to find it by the smell it gives.

Let's relate.
Let's talk a lot about what we ate.

cannoli, carciofi, cannelini,
panucci, prosciutto, panini,
lasagna, legumi, linguini,
zabaione, zuccotto, zucchini.

Maitre d'! How I hate your tea!

Over 30 Billion Served .. slowly.

A l p h a b e t i c a l

Abandon abbreviated abdomens! Abduct aberrant Abigail! Able Abner
abnormally abolished abominable aborigine. Abort abovementioned
abrasive, absentminded, absurd, abusive academician! Acapulco
accelerated accessible acolade, accompanist accosted. Accra accrued
accuracy, accused acetic Achilles' acidic acorn. Acquaintance acquired
aquittal. Acrobat, across acrylic actress, acts adamant. Adam added
additional address. Adieu, Adkins, administer admiralty! Admonish
adolescent Adolph. Adopt adreneline, Adrienne! Adroit adult advises aerobics.
Aesthetic affairs affect affirmations. Afghan's aflame. Aforementioned
aftermath: afternoon afterthought afterward again. Agatha's agenda
aggravates agressor. Agribuisiness, Ahoy! Airline Airman's alabaster
albatross - albeit alcoholic - alienated Allah. Allied alligators
allocated allspice. Alongside aloof Alpert,

A L P H A B E T I C A L

alphanumeric Alsatian , also
alternate alto altogether. Am amateurish, amatory, amazed, Ambassador.
Amelia ameliorates American amethyst amidst ammunition. Amoebas,
amphetamines, amphibians, amplifiers, amputees, amulets, an anaconda,
analysts, anarchic ancestors, anchors and Andean anirons animate
Annapolis. Anneal, annihilate, annotate, announce, annoy annual anomolies.
Anorexia - another answer. Antarctican anthology anticipates antipodean
antique antlers. Anyone - anyplace - anything, anyway, Aphrodite's
apology appals apparent appearance. Apple applicant applies appropriate
appoval. April: Arabic arachnids arbitrate aboreal arcades. Archaic
archbishops are areas, aren't arenas. Argentinian argot: aristocratic arse!
Artichoke article's arty as asbestos. Asexual Ashley's ashore! Askew
asparagus assails assassin. Arsonist associate astounds astronomer.
Astrophysicist at Atlanta ate athletic, atomic attache. Attica attire
attracts atypical audience. Audiotape augments august aunt Aurora.
Australian autobiography avenged average aviatrix. Avocado awakes!
Awesome! Awful axolotl ayes Aztec azure.
--- Nov 5, 1995

Acit Cràt Na

Antarctica's Monologue

My back is curved, the days and nights flicker on my covering of ice.
the winds blast across my dry skin down to the sea.
Are there others like me?
As I sleep, I feel the rhythm on my covers move with my breathing.
Life at my scale is grander than the lives of my parasites, but yet I wonder.
Are there others like me?
The ice calves, the winds circulate.
I have been bent by my ice coat, the glaciers flood down my spine.
Can I recall a time when I was not broken, not burdened?
White, and cold because of it.
Auroras wash and tickle my center.
At my edges, many trails bend the rocks and curve them.
How do I call from the bottom of the earth?
And who will hear?

Is the ice causing my life or deadening it?
So much subtlety is missing - so essential is my life - I can do without food,
I can do without air.
Yet, there is the spinning of the globe, the precession of the axes.
My day and night - so very extreme - causing my breath, but am I breathed?
Separation.
I was separated.
I tore off the other continents and floated south.
the river on my back became a sea; the whiter I got, the whiter I became,
and as I hug the bottom of the earth, whiter shall I become.
- - - - - - -
This is related to the Acit Cràt Na project.