In this world, months roll
backward; deathless.
Calamity knows no Jane
or Jim or Jack. I am del-
irious in this vivid delusion.
Food and coins and bills of
paper have no purpose here,
between this ear and this ear.
We step out of the massive
crystalline doors of our
complexes every day
and night and, once
outside, we instantly
evaporate and float
over woodland hills
until we reach, say,
the beautiful bay,
and its clean blue
waters, over which
we float all the way
to the infinite ocean.
And once the vast
Pacific lies be-
low, we drift
downward and
we sink into the
thick slosh of it
and become one
with all of the
earth's flora and
fauna, which is
indeed a new-
found humanity.
We think, do and
become all of these
things when we look
at the separation of
the classes, and at
all of its related
separations.
