Borrowed Eden

Implausible and jubilant, a late night in late May. The darkness, the sweet caress— hard to remember what agonies have occurred in witness past. Bats reap their prey in mad mania. We are in the garden, not looking at it. Somewhere between passion and piety, there is momentary equanimity— the phenomena which passes through us, involuntarily and abstractedly. What I call “borrowed Eden.”