you will grow a man's face. and i will live in the woods delightfully alone. secreting little ditties about nothing in particular. out in the woods with old oaks and maybe some birch too. i always loved birch especially. and willows will surround me, because i have to tell them it's all going to work out just fine. i like the way they mope lazy like, very sad in the wind. with their heads down. and maybe cedar can join us, to make the air smell nice. in a forest for myself. with an accordion, and some assorted amount of other things, all very useful. a year maybe? i don't know how long. some sort of eternity out there. a completely different loving life, to nurture and be nurtured by the sky and cotton ball clouds. i'd like to see a river, or creek, spring. the summer prime, with red sun dresses. always and only red. everyday. a washcloth and some wine. i ride my blue bike into town for cigarettes and oats. perhaps a kitten named kleine fräulien. or "touchknife." olin slaughter will be there. along with rhonda metroux. we will avoid corn at all cost, as it may be a lot smarter than initially given credit. let us see. now. we have the oak, the birch, the willow, the cedar, the creek, the cat, and the accordion. and the assortment of other useful things. very sparse, you have to understand. minimal and pleasant. the birds will be there anyway, so there's no need to invite them. but i do hope that the red-winged black birds get wind of this. and show their pretty faces.