Where I live distance is the primal fact
The world is mostly far away and small
Drifting along through cause and effect like sleep
As when the distance unlikeliest of stems
Bears the unlikely blossom of the wind
Engendering our only weather dry
Except in winter pine trees live on snow
So greedy pulling down these drifts that bury
The fences snap the trunks of smaller trees
If the forest wants to go somewhere it spreads
Like a prophecy its snow before it
Technology a distant windy cause
There is no philosophy of death where I live
Only philosophies of suffering