Il faut cultiver notre jardin. -Voltaire. br br I cultivate my garden plot, though bound br within this toad for safety, I don't protest br metamorphosis but bask on my ground, br warmed by the sun's theodicy, digest br such gnats and flies I diurnally astound br and gorge on whines. Insecticide is best— br exophthalmic eyes help harvest sound br from Leibnitz's monads. I forget the rest. br br Whatever is- is best, Pangloss would say. br Social menace past, I'm safely obscure, br no longer trusting victim, easy prey, br I keep perceptive vigils, rarely stir: br that wrinkle in the grass, looping this way, br is merely a slither of wind, I'm sure.