There was another egg in Ezra's cage when I came home from work. This one is almost completely round in shape. Very strange.
And egads, this is the poem I resorted to ILL to obtain. It's hard to justify the effort many people had to go to provide me with it:
A.R. Ammons, Brink Road
I think we'd find more to discuss in this Ammons poem:
GOOD MORNING, THIS MORNING
Death is very common but not,
I hear, 100% effective; one,
once, unjustly, I suppose, hung
up, downed, rose, a rising
that delivered death to plenitudes
in scatterings, swingings, stakes
of grubbed up flesh (set afire),
limbs, heads cut off, etc.: is
this a small price to pay for
something to believe in: nature
is just here, a lovely if careless
spread, and its dynamics, seen
to and smoothed out, can be
suggestive: otherwise, the fridge's
clean but for what we ourselves
devise: belief, at any cost,
serves life: let life do without.
Otherwise, I read fanfic. I feel no remorse.