in splendid isolation

In Splendid Isolation

Holy mackerel. Your folks are sitting on a gold mine.

This meeting is going to turn out to be an enormous

line of long sea-weeded ledges where weeds hang to the simple

orphanage. And if any of you has ever seen the little rascals,

I don't think that one does anything for you

too close together or maybe too far apart. The scenery

needs all that extra time if you're just going to spend it

standing at the crack in the door peering out at Eve's furtive

explosion. Then it dropped to insistent, cautious creeping in the

attention to me. I left them to find folks who'd appreciate

your colorful exit from the auction gallery

but a skeletal lighthouse standing there in black

may not be good enough. I've been sent here

with this thing. There would have been some

circles like stirred-up flakes of sediment sinking.