|   Configuration of Crumbs 
      The cold heaps of other mountains, 
        antelopes brushing the sky.... 
        When they’re through eating 
        they remember the minds 
        they have done damage to. 
        In the distance, mountains 
        furl and unfurl. They hold 
        warm, inexpugnable depths, 
        soothing unreflective things, 
        such as what you feel at dawn, 
        adjusting your alarm clock, determined 
        to have french fries for breakfast. 
        This is new, you have never done this, 
        and believe it will be a way 
        to make the irregular firm. 
        This is all new for me, the man 
        is thinking. The man is thinking 
        that if he possessed a baguette 
        he’d bash it over the dismalness 
        and remember all kinds of bread. 
        Because of all the crazy things. 
        Because there seems no escaping 
        the frustrated house. It’s red, 
        jammed with leaves, and when 
        you pluck a leaf you will be like 
        the way you plucked it, nobody seeing 
        your way through to where you’re going. 
        The way we’re going is somehow up 
        though one wouldn't notice it as such.  |