have I put my input in: if not, where
have I put it: I’ve written so much
I think I must have put in my input:
but every morning afresh, I feel
unexpressed: rain in the luminous
woods, yellow with unfallen fall,
feels like creation beginning: and
gulls foraging on the lawn by the waste
treatment plant blur in and out of
form through windshield
rain: I always supposed the better
place we go to was better because it
was better: but, of course, it’s
better because it’s no place, nothing
at all, an end to this place:
that’s better: now, the furniture
of forever, the terra celestial, the
gold streets lining puffy clouds,
the throne, the streams that flow by
(benches, hammocks, somewhere to lie
or sit down)—oh, well, I don’t have
to do away with kitchen materials
because I never think, and never
thought, of kitchens: a clear
place—O Blivion: I still like it
here: learn to love misery, confusion
and you better here considerably