It was a long trudge
the straight way perfectly
straight with various dreamily
winding traces
streaking that flat pounded
path of a material
unknown to science he said
snaky threads or veins or rills
as if of fresh blood
running before them
but it couldn’t be fresh
it lay there so long
no matter how far
they trudged no source
no wounded side
of any animal
appeared there were
no animals no matter
how long they trudged
if it was blood it had
to have dried up
long ago they could
have touched tasted
if the maroon on their finger
whorls was sticky like
menses or dry as the old
saying says as dust but they
refrained they were
afraid
though it was in fact
a long trudge they
took on the straight
way there wasn’t much
there they ever came to no
coverts giants caves chapels and it’s
over now yet somehow
remembering it they remember
they don’t remember it they
never made it it’s
the it’s yet to come
it will still happen to them some
day they saw then but now
they were going to
rest after it relieved having
survived were going to
pant silently so they slept and
waked with me here maybe
three times and then
passed on they have
come through as the
poet said he told me and
told me
there were
sheets or sails there something
at least collapsed clouds
that fell and smothered
the garden umbrellas a sea
breeze suddenly folded
and their daiquiris are
inside there unreachable
the nonexistent intestines
of a school child’s
costume ghost we
truly did survive it though
he said we yet might not but
never fear it feels beside
this well that all will be
well and all will be well and it was
beautiful at least thank
goodness for that beautiful truly
there in the
unmoving wind
and light and dry so
at least it proved
the real
existence
of the three universals
Thomas mentions and since
we have to agree on that much
the fourth is
also proven
unity
but we saw
nothing
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