Field is pause field is plot field is red chigger bump where

the larvae feed corn wig curled in your ear. Field cares not

a fig for your resistance though kindly gently lay your

head down girl lay it down. When ready storm when

summer kilned smoothly as a cake. Awake! Awake and

wide is field. And viral. Biotic. Field of patience of percolation

and policy. Your human energy. Come again? What for? In

field there is no time at all no use a relief the effort done

which is thank you finally the very lack of you. Lay your

head down girl lay it down. In field which has waited since

you first ascended to the raw end of your squared off world and

gazed upon your subjects: congery of rat snake corn snake

of all the low ribbons bandaging the stalks. Progress in field

foot sliding in matter slick chaff in fall. And always field's oboe

this sawing a wind that is drawing its nocturne through the 23rd

mansion of the moon. Field is Requiel's music and the Wild Hunt

of offer. In field they are waiting you are sounding. Go home.