Sublime

The particle of her private self rejoins everything it has been split off from—the plan of runaway green. I only went out for a walk and finally concluded to stay out till sundown, for going out, I found, was really going in.

viridescent

All day and all night long, her only people are the trees, and her only means of speaking for them are words, those organs of saprophytic latecomers that live off the energy green things make.

A weird isolated memory of summertime gnats knitting the air above the shaggy animal-head of a neighbor’s topiary hedge.

grok,”

Even in a body’s most private moments, something else joins in. Someone spoke to her when she was dead.