Lucretius loved Epicurus, knew the world through him; his meaning was clear: love as a way of knowing, of assuming the known. To know is to narrate. People die trying to tell what it was like there then. Others die of not trying. The form of this telling is, for example, a trellis. A growth controlled unpredictable within measure. Trellis. Tri licium. three threads. The weaver knows through the fingers the way worlds hold together. Basket makers. The shadow of a trellis is filled against itself, against measure. See the sun try again to stop the movement of the rose climbing among the woven ways.
Into Bad Weather Bounding
(After Wallace Stevens' "Of The Surface Of Things")
Colligated points, dust, ultimately a cloud, as in an orographic cloud in Colorado cringing against a horizon. Boundaried vision and vapor conspire to exhale, exalt into rain random dispersal into the present: I see as far as that. I never saw farther. In sinking air, mammatus cloud a sign the storm has passed is passing... I walk happily whenever or sometimes pass the last bad sign the bounded land, I am sad as you are doubtless. Sad said the bad man, somber. Otherwise say: In my room the world is beyond my understanding;/ But when I walk I see that it consists of three or four hills and a cloud.