i heard billy sing ain't no home in this world this morning. the day before yesterday i hear a cicada buzz in the mouth of a flying bird and the air was webbed and other birds converged and in the winged scuffle the cicada was free. there was a fat man watering a little tree from a big truck his engine idling furrows in the grass the webbed air in my face on my hands. this was all before. there was a way to remember that started fresh each day. the need to forget like water. we were on the sidewalk with three dogs and a pair of girls wanted past saying we're on a schedule it's god's i said god's on dog time. remember if you will. memory will be you remembering you. there's a sweetness in this world crushed by evil business. homes are crushed. the business of the world government continued, crushing the sweetness. the sweet aroma comes through the crushed senses. a sense of life abides. we are not watching only the newsmakers we are watching ourselves watch a young crow on a red swingset, or something else that serves, something that survives unnoticed until now.