What I’d like to do if I could is grab a policeman and walk him on a leash down the avenue. Instead, a guy leaps out at me. “What’d you say?” he demands. The more I stare at his face, the more it resembles a carnival mask, green, violet, and pink. Clocks can be heard to howl. I guess we have to learn to love the dark. We’re all up to our necks in it. E. Dickinson, in a ultra-black pinafore, approaches on a sleepwalk with the alphabet prowling around her. It just happens. No one planned it. And then? And then the deer are fat and ready for eating.