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pathetic, to its desires
about itself; by itself,
though, it fi lls the view, there is
nothing else, eh? Do not talk
soothingly of death to me
in this gloom,
says the great shade
in Hades to the live man,
in your gleaming gear. Sooner
work for a destitute serf
than rule all the used-up dead.'
`It's getting light,' I remark.
`Light of three kinds,' Meeker says,
as he takes a look around,
`past, present, and future light:
a few stars still left over,
that ranch house light that came on
while I was quoting Homer,
and the east light -- ' `We can see
what's lettered on the sign, now,'
I say. He reads, `CROSS L R ANCH'
then spells: `S - I - U - O - L
Corporation of Meeker,
' `Well, we know
who owns it now -- rather, what.'
I say, `It's a sort of ghost,
a corporation being
incorporeal.' Meeker
shrugs and says, `People have lived
enclosed in such ghost-creatures
wherever they have lived.' `Well,'
I say, `the name of this one
can't even be pronounced.' He:
`Oh, a pronunciation
will have been worked out somehow,
by the people needing one.'
The sun is about to rise.