mouvance hilarity and sour scorn typify my reactions to passions of the moment: I mean, seeing people expend themselves into fugitive extremes, it speaks poorly of the power of the mind to govern any kind of distances: until you consider that passions, except in intense subduals too long range to bear, only come in moments, so if you are to get any passion out of life, you'll have to dig it out of narrow spaces or squeeze all you have into slender, if deep, circumstance: I myself have never known what to do about anything: as I look back, I see not even a clown but a clown's clothes flapping on the clothesline of some tizzy: is it really wise so to anticipate and prepare for the storm, so to gauge it in terms of other storms, that when the fierce lightning breaks and high wind falls blunt against you you just look away with a numb nonchalance: what about the splintering free of the green branches, the bubbly pelt and spray of windy rain on sudden pools, what about the vigorous runaway of rivulets finding themselves: what, what, did not the vibrance of the ground in that thud click your teeth: think of the tranquility, all passion spent, when the passion passes and you lie back in a relief of sweet feeling; whereas, unspent, you would just growl your way into the next worry of the next storm: hark, the bells are ringing, the announcements are in preparation, it is time for singing. . . . a. r. ammons janet paterson 50-9 / sinemet-selegiline-prozac almonte-ontario-canada / [log in to unmask]