The high ones die, die. They die. You look up and who's there? br —Easy, easy, Mr Bones. I is on your side. br I smell your grief. br —I sent my grief away. I cannot care br forever. With them all align & again I died br and cried, and I have to live. br br —Now there you exaggerate, Sah. We hafta die. br That is our 'pointed task. Love & die. br —Yes; that makes sense. br But what makes sense between, then? What if I br roiling & babbling & braining, brood on why and br just sat on the fence? br br —I doubts you did or do. De choice is lost. br —It's fool's gold. But I go in for that. br The boy & the bear br looked at each other. Man all is tossed br & lost with groin-wounds by the grand bulls, cat. br William Falukner's where? br br (Frost being still around.