The stillness of landscapes and the unevenness of perception like certain dreams leave sticky residue. A reminder nothing can come of a crowded room. The guests seem to adore the place, this strange meeting. For lack of feeling— either too much or too little, square inch by square inch under these well-built roofs. Sometimes it’s best to get out right away—out of the picture. Leave nothing behind not even mystery (shadows). And in the reading room we’re growing younger and madder. Sort of tangled. Maybe I’ll ride an elephant or vibration until awareness knocks me off. So far nothing. But what did I come here for? An evaporated well. A parallel existence I’m learning how to imagine.