But something’s wrong with this radiant knowledge . . .
The pulpit offers rest while I seek work.
They pressed up by pressing down, piling boulders till the earth cracked . . .
Walking along the bank . . .
Please Aeneas, will you teach us . . .
Smoke curling around . . .
With crimson fire, the sun went down.
Your breath curls like steam and the air’s made . . .
Sole occupant of this unbusy world . . .
Panther, I know you. All your airs . . .