7/30/08 mud my friend from youth a bee's track through the air the garnering that surrounds us in mid-summer going on in or out of sight made things the fields made by fences and by what is done there the days made by actions and by what the acts hold within them the fullness through which we cannot see the whole so full it is is what we can speak to or let speak through us but will never be able to put completely in speech let it let it be never to be fully stated for when the statement isn't quite right it isn't in it at all and at day's end the failure completed all night falling backward and never a bottom the only hope of all this talking to myself before and in sleep of what has just passed is that if what I left of words in order was like what I was left that is what was meant by enough