What last broke against leaf, under
leaf-bearing mind? So little disturbs the sea by comparison. Do
you mind? Finding a reflected mountain is really a shadow, a tree
is beneath its color, the shore a mirage. A real boat in imaginary
water. Yellow fall, green gilled. Trees have the only real land-legs.
Consider our end. The lights are dry in daylight, up in the dipper,
the Hammer, scorpion, the Hurricane. The kid's fire is hidden,
underneath. To crawl out from under. It's dirt. Don't win. Don't
put it out.