Groaned delivery: it's a sad world. Exploitation is relative, when siblings have been many times removed the human family reels like so many fish on so many hooks. Our sentence runs on paid for by the word of some god whose idea of ice is just around someone else's corner. Stored for the millennium? A kingdom on earth? It's the wise idea of hell that sprays this bush with burning tears and oily gas. Repetition serves the habit and we may be pattern creatures but we are also creators rights and lefts and swerves accelerants, spread by absurd mouths, unnaturally selected by fire and flood and stone. Find your bread by the light of the river. Hold the moon when the cycle's sliver. Hold your closeness as it shivers. And sleep off the impulse to take your fellows and make them your followers.