Particularly As A Jew, I Don't Like

When You Die, You Know, You Hear The Insistent Pounding That Defines All Things, Whether Of Matter Or Energy, Since There Is Nothing In The Universe, Really, But Proportion.

Rigel, Betelgeuse, And Orion. There Was No Finer Church, No Finer Choir, Than The Stars Speaking In Silence To The Many Consumptives Silently Condemned, A Legion Upon The Dark Rooftops. The Wind Came Down From The North Like A Runner In Lacrosse, Violent And Hard, To Batter Every Living Thing. They Were There, Each One Alone In Conversation With The Stars, Mining Ephemeral Love From Cold And Distant Light.

He Felt As If He Were Paying For The Privilege Of Music With Portions Of His Life And Body. But It Was Well Worth It.

Their Powerlessness, Innocence, And Imagination Fused To Enable Them To Turn Time Inside Out, Travel On The Wind, And Enter The Souls Of Animals.

Because There Were All Kinds Of Hell - Some Were Black And Dirty, And Some Were Silvery And High.