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uutpoetry:

The Down-Going

I love him whose soul is so overfull that he forgetteth himself, and all things are in him: thus all things become his down-going. He descends into things, holding a banner that reads, “May I trespass on your valuable space.” Eventually, a company of bees enveloped him and forced him to redecorate everything. What care he took, what meditations he surrendered himself to, before turning over his house to the upholsterers! The team included Robert Benchley and a prolapsed stanch. What would become of such a crew must have seemed all too obvious. Upon the bed, before that whole company, there lay a nearly liquid mass of loathsome—of detestable putridity. This brings up an interesting question: what is (the nature) of “the obvious”?

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