Traffic Back from Home.
Traffic Back from Home
Near the river clinch, the river goes like the human life world
as if there were windows, which is a famous problem: what if I
were sleeping? Behind this rancid beast of burden around
this tremendous pasture in the dark. The outlines of other
beasts as if everything were open or made with a latch and
small pulleys. As if the burden were diminishing--the
grabbing muscle spooling out--or my chest were turning the
The truth is there. Growing things grow on it, an alley of
acids and bases. There is an Arabian horse of turtle shell or a
giant cat wrestling a reptile.
There is covetousness, begotten of an old churl in a leather
bag. The cast is authorized but one of many. A Mary holding
a girl holding a dolly: the narrativity of mental life ... a story
rather than a set of rules. My lolling tongue says this way is
real and mine; that my way is very straight from here.