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A tree slapping in the night and awakens. And there is the moment - an interstices in which everything stops. It is a reality so real that it has nothing to do with anything, not anything out there. An institution. We are instituting a form. There can be no other form but form. The call outside thought. This voice that approaches in becoming more distant. Out in the garden crackling of lit cigarette. Each arrives at his moment. Must there be regularity? Each writing is a beginning.

The close proximity of both mother and instrument

What do the tones mean

The psalmist refers perhaps to a trial of progression

A snowy retreat
The mountain
The outcome of a complex sequence of events