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sometimes using a text edit makes for a better program, nature's ballet of summer squalls and winter wooden jaws collapsing madly as a hammer on a brass cymbal mattress, the waitress settled down collapsing on her mattress, passing overture continues rapidly, Hungarian praying swan pirouetting softly to the ground, the symphony stage swelling tender as the night, naked pointing stairwells measure cool eyed patience despite one beating harp, harp on dreams distracting you from the dark, watered down existence spread thin across two river dams. the beaver swimming up river skitters under the rock we are on and doesn't come out again--we are so fine at disturbing the rhythm of life, we ask why too much and complain when it doesn't happen.