बल्ली इन, बल्ली आउट

the keep keep keeping, of all these deep deep readings, gets me undone:

there are only so many beasts, and so many ways of beasting:

FALL RAGED IN THE YELLOWING GRASS, the weight of the unturning, turning, the color of leaves grown heavier than the stalks they sit upon, the air, sucking them down, the ground, calling their number.

I'm not here nor there, if this would lose you, like some indeterminate number of cactus spines in the foot, remember, its only painful till it works itself out, like the dog sleeping, the dust crumbling, fossils coming back to life, as birds or feathers or likelier things, eat a seed, plant a tree, the night, yes, the night, is only so long, unfortunamente, so is the day.