I was standing next to a table and it disturbed me that I was
so alone and suddenly I heard a tapping extremely
faint to be sure but something was making itself known.
It was so subtle I had to kneel down, then I found the
chair and I touched the wood the way you touch a tongue, I
placed my finger in a grain, immediately twilight
fell and creatures were standing around us.
By now I was not much larger than a pinpoint and
internally intoxicated the chair was sending me its thoughts, somewhat
technically but followed by the rustling of trees before briefly,
for two or three seconds, I became a chair. It was blissful, blissful
that wood in my vertebrae! The tapping in my leg, a state of being
without blood or thoughts. And stand still for ever. And
raised. And always that function and an
inner swaying, derived from the trees.
To see the original poem, go to here