The Memory Of Cumshewa Is Of A

Last Night I Dreamed That I Came Face To Face With A Picture I Had Done And Forgotten, A Forest Done In Simple Movement, Just Forms Of Trees Moving In Space. That Is The Third Time I Have Seen Pictures In My Dreams, A Glint Of What I Am Striving To Attain.

The Foolish Square Calves Pretend To Be Frightened Of Our Train. Bluffers! Haven't They Seen It Every Day Since They Were Born? It's Just An Excuse To Shake The Joy Out Of Their Heels.

I Thought My Mountain Was Coming This Morning. It Was Near To Speaking When Suddenly It Shifted, Sulked, And Returned To Smallness. It Has Eluded Me Again And Sits There, Puny And Dull. Why?

The Outstanding Event Was The Doing Which I Am Still At. Don't Pickle Me Awayas Done.

The Earth Is Soaked And Soggy With Rain. Everything Is Drinking Its Fill And The Surplus Gluts The Drains. The Sky Is Full Of It And Lies Low Over The Earth, Heavy And Dense. Even The Sea Is Wetter Than Usual!