a good, long dream you had

A Good, Long Dream You Had

Everywhere there is growing interest in the Exposition,

a universe entirely without structure, without shape, without

you who study the star clusters, the galaxies, the planets and their moons.

Whoever had owned these articles was small; the fit was nearly perfect.

In a democracy, even one as flawed and slow to respond as

a long dark age before any runaways or weekend hippies found

the tugmaker’s letter, he complained, framed the boat question solely

with what bold declaration, what showmanship, what authoritative

junk mail, now rightly convinced that it was talking to a human being.

You can do that and not arouse suspicion you're some sort of fetishist of

a thunder clap, a parabola of blood, the viral’s brain matter caroming

as a particularly dangerous brand of oddball, the kind who come into the

advanced at a far greater pace and appeared to be more or less complete,

which of the states experienced the most virulent protests against the

service records, credit ratings, political contributions. All available for study and

that was when you crossed the boundary from selfsufficiency to asceticism,

no doubt correctly rendered according to all the laws of optics, but

the original understandings, they were science and religion, they were

yet another disappearance or, if they were, that they would be.