Hi.
Don't know what I'm going to say.
[LAUGHTER]
Crazy, I'm in Tuscon.
It's excellent.
It really is, actually.
It's beautiful.
This is called "In This World to be Lost,"
which is part of a sentence from Thoreau or Thoreau,
as I know I'm supposed to say, from some part of Walden.
"In This World to be Lost."
Get dressed.
We should leave now.
As for the so-called waters of persuasion,
why not cast what's left of the leaf upon them?
That's when we come to love a thing for no better reason
than that we have found it and find at once for love.
Have you ever done that?
Some asleep looking bird say, that's dead,
really, lying dead in the straw grass, the grass
and the imaginary conversation it makes with itself.
Or any man in tears whispering if I go down on whoever
tells me to is it prayer?
Isn't it?
Did I pray enough?
Waves, then waves in reverse, maybe that's all we're given.
Maybe stamina is just a fairer form of stubborn and maybe not.
As for autumn, that predictable drama
will soon enough presumably be again beginning.
Get dressed.
And upon the confusion un-confusion
that the waves make, let's cast what's left.