all the new thinking is about loss.

"...that the clown-

faced woodpecker probing the dead sculpted trunk 

of that black birch is, by his presence, 

some tragic falling off from a first world 

of undivided light. Or the other notion that, 

because there is in the world no one thing

to which the bramble of blackberry corresponds, 

a word is elegy to what it signifies. 

we talked about it late last night and in the voice 

of my friend, there was a thin wire of grief, at tone 

almost querulous. After a while I understood that, 

talking this way, everything dissolves." 

-Hass

i'm just excited for 1800 hours tomorrow.