“that landscape at the end of Sorcerer”
we were so caught up
in the mere idea of the rain
we missed the last cicada chirr
& when they made their lithe escape
i wander now through streets of gray & dun
blowing mists & stare
through each faraway burn
as here at home beasts snirp
“You fear the earth, you fear rough ground and rocks, you fear moister earth and rotting flesh, you fear the flesh itself, all flesh is rotting flesh. If you love not rotting flesh, you love not at all.” —R A Lafferty
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