Walking along the shore by the garden,

gathering bits of jetsam,

saying, "It's thick, like a big pudding,"

about to go howling and sniffing like beasts on the trail.

Being red red red but saying "green"

out of some little hole in the stomach.

Oh these are embers

Oh

"As soon as you see a binareeee opposition, you know some-

thing's wrong." Between the past and the prophet

is the fall Eve did it

fell us into beauteous night

fell us into burning, into drowning, into ghost

We are sick, we have bodies, coffee beans grow on our hills,

we live in the chaff of the thresher of gardens,

bright with sinuous rills.

We're a field day.

We need a field theory to talk.

The air that strikes the surface of your eye,

of the squirrel's side eye as you wait in the garden

comes to you through water from TV. As you wait in the graveyard.

Cats look like squirrels.

Cats look like mice. Cats eat mice.

But she never has.

Cats eat mice. And she never has.

"Oh look how small they look, out in the boat!"

That was a very black crow.

Huh?

That was a very black crow.

Hmmm?

That was a very black crow.

What's ink in the water on a planet of rain?

The fat green moon of the Earth that we love after the lecture?

So we all

the way home

sow blue.

From The Encyclopedia of Scotland