I Went For A Walk Over The Dunes Again This Morning To The Sea, Then Turned Right Along The Surf Rounded A Naked Headland And Returned Along The Inlet Shore: It Was Muggy Sunny, The Wind From The Sea Steady And High, Crisp In The Running Sand, Some Breakthroughs Of Sun But After A Bit Continuous Overcast: The Walk Liberating, I Was Released From Forms, From The Perpendiculars, Straight Lines, Blocks, Boxes, Binds Of Thought Into The Hues, Shadings, Rises, Flowing Bends And Blends Of Sight: I Allow Myself Eddies Of Meaning: Yield To A Direction Of Significance Running Like A Stream Through The Geography Of My Work: You Can Find In My Sayings Swerves Of Action Like The Inlet'S Cutting Edge: There Are Dunes Of Motion, Organizations Of Grass, White Sandy Paths Of Remembrance In The Overall Wandering Of Mirroring Mind: But Overall Is Beyond Me: Is The Sum Of These Events I Cannot Draw, The Ledger I Cannot Keep, The Accounting Beyond The Account: In Nature There Are Few Sharp Lines: There Are Areas Of Primrose More Or Less Dispersed; Disorderly Orders Of Bayberry; Between The Rows Of Dunes, Irregular Swamps Of Reeds, Though Not Reeds Alone, But Grass, Bayberry, Yarrow, All ... Predominantly Reeds: I Have Reached No Conclusions, Have Erected No Boundaries, Shutting Out And Shutting In, Separating Inside From Outside: I Have Drawn No Lines: As Manifold Events Of Sand Change The Dune'S Shape That Will Not Be The Same Shape Tomorrow, So I Am Willing To Go Along, To Accept The Becoming Thought, To Stake Off No Beginnings Or Ends, Establish No Walls: By Transitions The Land Falls From Grassy Dunes To Creek To Undercreek: But There Are No Lines, Though Change In That Transition Is Clear As Any Sharpness: But 'Sharpness' Spread Out, Allowed To Occur Over A Wider Range Than Mental Lines Can Keep: The Moon Was Full Last Night: Today, Low Tide Was Low: Black Shoals Of Mussels Exposed To The Risk Of Air And, Earlier, Of Sun, Waved In And Out With The Waterline, Waterline Inexact, Caught Always In The Event Of Change: A Young Mottled Gull Stood Free On The Shoals And Ate To Vomiting: Another Gull, Squawking Possession, Cracked A Crab, Picked Out The Entrails, Swallowed The Soft-Shelled Legs, A Ruddy Turnstone Running In To Snatch Leftover Bits: Risk Is Full: Every Living Thing In Siege: The Demand Is Life, To Keep Life: The Small White Blacklegged Egret, How Beautiful, Quietly Stalks And Spears The Shallows, Darts To Shore To Stab'What? I Couldn't See Against The Black Mudflats'A Frightened Fiddler Crab? The News To My Left Over The Dunes And Reeds And Bayberry Clumps Was Fall: Thousands Of Tree Swallows Gathering For Flight: An Order Held In Constant Change: A Congregation Rich With Entropy: Nevertheless, Separable, Noticeable As One Event, Not Chaos: Preparations For Flight From Winter, Cheet, Cheet, Cheet, Cheet, Wings Rifling The Green Clumps, Beaks At The Bayberries A Perception Full Of Wind, Flight, Curve, Sound: The Possibility Of Rule As The Sum Of Rulelessness: The 'Field' Of Action With Moving, Incalculable Center: In The Smaller View, Order Tight With Shape: Blue Tiny Flowers On A Leafless Weed: Carapace Of Crab: Snail Shell: Pulsations Of Order In The Bellies Of Minnows: Orders Swallowed, Broken Down, Transferred Through Membranes To Strengthen Larger Orders: But In The Large View, No Lines Or Changeless Shapes: The Working In And Out, Together And Against, Of Millions Of Events: This, So That I Make No Form Of Formlessness: Orders As Summaries, As Outcomes Of Actions Override Or In Some Way Result, Not Predictably (Seeing Me Gain The Top Of A Dune, The Swallows Could Take Flight'Some Other Fields Of Bayberry Could Enter Fall Berryless) And There Is Serenity: No Arranged Terror: No Forcing Of Image, Plan, Or Thought: No Propaganda, No Humbling Of Reality To Precept: Terror Pervades But Is Not Arranged, All Possibilities Of Escape Open: No Route Shut, Except In The Sudden Loss Of All Routes: I See Narrow Orders, Limited Tightness, But Will Not Run To That Easy Victory: Still Around The Looser, Wider Forces Work: I Will Try To Fasten Into Order Enlarging Grasps Of Disorder, Widening Scope, But Enjoying The Freedom That Scope Eludes My Grasp, That There Is No Finality Of Vision, That I Have Perceived Nothing Completely, That Tomorrow A New Walk Is A New Walk.