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WHERE BEAUTY GOES

This afternoon, in a welcome respite from shaping sentences with mind chisels, in a sudden hunger for actual heft and palpable rendering I went outside to split logs, and what with the warbler warblings and the jinchoge waftings and the growing stack of fragrant wood (cherry, oak, camphor) it was all I could do to keep from laying right down on the ground and letting all that beauty take me away to where beauty goes, which I eventually did until it was time to break away from beauty and get back to the word chisels. Even now I sit surrounded by growing mounds of semantic shavings... This was just a little break...