Arising from this cosmic swamp of
molecule and muck, I slowly get my bearings. Variety and change is here as far
as I can see. It looks so large and sounds quite unbelievably ear-piercing.
An herbaceous worm is turning.
Wolves are howling at their own reflections. Tigers burn with unsymmetrical
jungle glow. And bankers circumvent the moon to make ten-thousand loans.
Flames are rising to the point of
something great and overgrown. There's really nothing to it, not even skin or
bone. No words can ever label or describe it, endlessly prophetic, all alone.
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