REGION OF MEMORY  

For a lingering moment the world 
lacked a place to put its hat; 
it lived scarified at the wood's 
end, in a hut, alone, occasionally 
entertained by a bat. It ran from 
one tree to the next and fell and 
rolled in a big wide meadow where 
the sun had browned the grass. It 
acted as though it had already died; 
as though its legs were withered and 
its brain looped over dreary branches. 
A bird came down and offered assistance 
but the world bucked up in crazy resistance; 
and finally the moment passed. They all 
pass down to the single dot that will 
suck the futile universe down. 

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