The gist in a slurry, plump, downy evanescing in an elevator. Up the slurry rises above affixes and notation. Helium released — pushed in reverse come fall — trees light up then darken amid writhing worms. Better to heal resentment buried in colossal Orpheus, the spontaneous summer of man. With his gift of sullen madness signing everything in burlap, compounded and upcoming in percussive isolation. An upshot.