And it sort of continues, this kind of itinerant attitude
towards what arises.
"What is shorter than a step?
An in-drawn breath, not remembered when done,
not when not done either.
It's the animal soul, the great spirit,
who lolls as time and broods.
During cemetery strolls, breath comes and goes unnoticed.
Melancholy is disavowed.
No time for tone.
Plum buds have bloomed on lilac Sunday in early May.
City property is sanctified by pedestrian traffic.
What's heavier than lead?
Cries that can't be heard.
Brother granite."