a) the sun

b) Godot

c) the Third Policeman

The Wisteria kicks the tight big "Bang!" into a sprint: It can fly the 25 footer faster than Heracles can say "the Hydra of Lerna". A sham goat on the hillside winks, pukes a tiny cud-piece and scribbles a note w/an auger-feather 'tween its cloven hoof: "Dionysus is not dead - he got he a mask but you cain't stop what cain't be stopt." And the ivy-wind cruelly winds its green grip about their paralyzed axles, flapping spring-soft leaf-hands in rhythmic hypnosis, shimmery-sham-shimmer-sham-shoom.

The ancient ruins sleep heavily. A century ago hogs and corn both dwelt here in some odd-ball mammal's idea of co-existence, but I merely sit mesmerized: the randomly punctured green wall surrounds me, deflects the world and weakens it until I can slip into a vast, humanless time before.

The heavy rose stalk seeks the sun, leans green towards pitiful-sized grasses. Leaps sky-hole to air-blue distance impenetrable.

I make

I let

I mold

I succumb.

As I sit (where once under water, out of water, under water, out of water, under water, out of water) the ink I use must-once-a-been part of an exploding gaseous condensation; part of a dinosaur shit once, possibly twice; the first "plant" to ooze and glob and scrudge its non-standing slur onto the solid ground; a dirt-dot on the tip of an iceberg. It could have been part of an archaic mosquito's eye-ball.

Nothing not doing here - every year it's the same: the tension, the explosion, the profusion. Let it be May: it may not not be May.

A re-enactment of the Civil War

"Stampede-oh!" he gurgled merrily along side the wide stream-oh. "Watch your ankles!"

This time the herd (large ungulates w/odd reptilian heads out of which dribbled melting solder which quickly solidified on the glinty sand leaving a trail of letters which actually formed this 6th episode without a single word changed) took the upper bridge. Sally-Anne had constructed a series of "elaborately disguised fences" and "illusory grids" which steered the them to the cross-water hoof-clattery; and to the there they went.

At the Battle of Vicksburg it was the Confederate cannons on the bluff which so wreaked havoc with the Union army coming down river. And the same here: a brilliantly planned series of prefab plastic wall-flats, postured upon the bluff o'er-lookin' the crick, had been daubed thickly with a fluid sauce which absorbed all colors but the reddish color we call red. And this wall of walls shown down with such ferocity upon the solder-dribbling snake-headed ungulates that they stun-stayed freezen in their warten tracks.

And the bredge, designed for a two-tonne limit, now complained bitterly: "A curse upon ye, you freak, and yer cursed plots!" Along the careening cracture the cell walls pushed off from each other, and the whole illusion stupended splashily into the drink. Despite a depth of no more than two inches, all animals disappeared, drowned to death.

Initially depressed by this turn of events, a bank-bush proximitied semi-perturbed gray hare realized that, like a night in Valhalla, nothing was permanently lost:

Tomorrow the Union would be split and reformed, "none the worse for the war." Tomorrow Ol' Honest Abe would pull the bullet from his head, hand it back to Mr. Booth and search for the speech he'd readen every other day-past. And then sit down they all for a steep breaking of the feast-fast 'till 't noon they'll all be a-takin' there places once agen.