It's necessary to reserve a secret vice.This is what comes from forgetting to eatat the stated mealtimes. You simmer them carefully,drain, add cream and pepper,and amble up and down the stairs,scooping them up with your fingers right out of the bowl,talking to yourself out loud.You'd be surprised if you got an answer,but that part will come later.There is so much silence between the words,you say. You say, The sensed absenceof God and the sensed presenceamount to much the same thing,only in reverse.You say, I have too much white clothing.You start to hum.Several hundred years agothis could have been mysticismor heresy. It isn't now.Outside there are sirens.Someone's been run over.The century grinds on.
This is the one song everyonewould like to learn: the songthat is irresistible:the song that forces mento leap overboard in squadronseven though they see beached skullsthe song nobody knowsbecause anyone who had heard itis dead, and the others can’t remember.Shall I tell you the secretand if I do, will you get meout of this bird suit?I don’t enjoy it heresquatting on this islandlooking picturesque and mythicalwith these two feathery maniacs,