Jill's manner of speaking is a manner of speaking. living is something for brook and water. not the latitude of paeans nor penance nor the red cent of her coughing wing. this is as it was in the cloud capped by reason. this was the fox rechasing its own tale of bucket and lime. Nor the fair reason of the training ground of thought, its impermeable lovers and the breath of catechisms nor the sore foot of wind, or the china cup of desire. Jill comes home finding her cameo gone train station pioneer to the rooftop. this way the fin of the porpoise knows its tender home. arranging 'clair' and

Above the rills

birds and cat leap ~