Change Longed For

among the hunters with crossed bow there were sacred things Don't touch the things are sacred and the waters are holy poor things there is a leaden eye all by itself it floats on the boiling garbage no it be not winter no not on the kerbs there be no gusts of water wave after wave the eye, the imagination rolled here and there below red soldiers toys from dizzyingly olden times beyond redemption are those times. I wish to turn back but will not at least project me to the Cambrian that I will change my body-plan there was a fount to drink my brain goes back to the Cambrian the waters loosen their bowels and flow clear and crystalline here is the body-plan - take it. flows, air-lifts, clouds arising thoughts being born others maturing, I here on this Earth am occupied with doing. hovels in the Paleozoic yet together clustered families of things will live in such condition. come to it: the blood is trickling end of suffering