(After Wallace Stevens' "Of The Surface Of Things")
Colligated points, dust, ultimately a cloud, as in an orographic cloud in Colorado cringing against a horizon. Boundaried vision and vapor conspire to exhale, exalt into rain random dispersal into the present: I see as far as that. I never saw farther. In sinking air, mammatus cloud a sign the storm has passed is passing... I walk happily whenever or sometimes pass the last bad sign the bounded land, I am sad as you are doubtless. Sad said the bad man, somber. Otherwise say: In my room the world is beyond my understanding;/ But when I walk I see that it consists of three or four hills and a cloud.