there is someone knocking ... the bone can feel the wood but it's not the bone ... the door is meant to open onto wonder but it's not the door ... the voice is framed by language so that it can ask but it's neither the voice nor the question ... it's not the hero or the sage the action or the message ... it was meant to receive applause but more so much more to give it but it's not the applause either ... not all the stories told nor all the books written nor even all the words yet to be said surpass or surplace what this thing is by the grace above permission by the grace of creation ... eternally dependent of course and for that nothing it says or does is simply said or simply done but there's not the whit less for that when just for that it now always is ... and that's as simple as it comes as long as anything's still going for when we come to the end or just before the beginning of course all the bets are off ... I mean in between the two when the betting's fast and devious the asking the telling and the doing the begging and the granting the pounding and the pleading ... come all to a start here
For Monica on her birthday
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