It was in the middle of nowhere I found you strapped to the last fence, tied to the past as the desert (inevitable) encroached (incorrigible). I bribed my way past the fates, whose eyes were everywhere, and I tried to attend to the knot, not demanding the impossible.
The way forward was blocked, an impediment that blind progress nonetheless sought to conquer. It sought allies, conscript; it entreated us all to visions to prosper. ‘I will never stoop to conquer,’ I yelled and returned to my task, only to find it gone. Gone! As far as the eye can see, and I can see, let me tell you. Call this a ramble? No, I never did. This is now a rescue mission, which I think I always knew it was. If only it wasn’t so dense, maybe the target would be clearer, but theway, like the sinus of the perciever, remained blocked.
Soundbergs 