Long Island patch of meadow–over 100 ant species. I just want to mess around and eat and sleep and read, not write papers and study difficult things like chickens and Dealing with Curved Relationships and parthenogenesis and fossil onychophorans and otoliths and phytoliths and sporophytes and gymslips–a new word from the English side of my Spanish-English Dictionary. A weird sign on the baby-change station in the bus-station restroom shows a line of three elephants holding tails in trunks: only the first has tusks; the second has long eyelashes, and the third is slightly smaller than the other two. Kenneth Patchen’s tiger’s boggled eyes contemplate from my wall into the room, stalking and understanding the supple clutter (of books and coats and boots and crap) all together, and it’s raining outside. Starlings in the yard, and a hunched violet.
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