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From their seat at this late phase of western life,

Wand flash back to the beginning that is always be-
ginning: in green sun, on blue earth, switching rest-
lessly through phases of music in a single passage

of a song. This is the way their sentences are made,

it's where Wand is coming from - they're inquiring

about what was heard in order to parse what wasn't

yet. Everything's always changing, and our percep-
tion is not yours, or theirs. You may not even think

of Wand as a band of people playing music - per-
haps it is only a demand from a sound, until the car-
avan Wand arrives and assembles some bodies be-
fore you, when we bodies produce music that goes

directly below and inside. Everything thereafter

was collusion and delimitation and crocodile tears.

The hope is to use your head, to escape the chains

wrapped invisible around us, to sort out the one

from the other. Play the infinite game.