Just going about our business, are we, not trying to bear witness?
No tunnel-visionary, you, just worm-holing to see what you can
see, lighting your own way as you go? (Then it hits you—If you
lived out of your body, you’d be out of your mind.) (And you
think—when you’re catching up to the past what’s so modern
about being modern?) Yes, survival is an exaltation of form,
green thoughts, the rhythm of one’s first love…But gone, like
breaking news, is this fleeting river.