06 April 2011


Request 4/6

The sweeping hills of Pennsylvania are vast – are tiny – are green and full of deer finches opossum ground hog beaver bear trout – are full of nothing but wood lice brown recluse spiders and chipmunks – everything is an upsweep – weirdly pressed down – it is large and small and everything and nothing – it is like everywhere else and more so – there is nothing that can be done to explain it – anything – language is lost and regained but the words will never come to make this tree standing here larger then it is the fields more full of soy beans and corn and wheat – nothing will make this mountain more in a mind then the words – green – mountain – Susquehanna full to overflowing and logged with ice – Amish – black frock and large-brimmed hats – horses and goats and pigs and that smell – Pennsylvania is a spot on a map yes a spot and nothing more every inch of every space is as quiet as every other inch everywhere else – maybe there is an end of things making sense and a space where things are vast and getting vaster – the mind is a black hole and the universe is slowly filling it –

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