Angrily Standing Outside in the Wind

—kept losing self control but how could one lose the self after reading so much literary theory? The shorter "i" stood under the cork trees, the taller "I" remained rather passive; the brendas were angry at the greed, angry that the trees would die, had lost interest in the posturing of the privileged, the gaps between can't & won't... Stood outside the gate of permissible sound & the wind came soughing through the doubt debris(soughing comes from swāgh—to resound... echo actually comes from this also—) we thought of old Hegel across the sea—the Weltgeist—& clouds went by like the bones of a Kleenex... it's too late for countries but it's not too late for trees... & the wind kept soughing with its sound sash, wind with its sound sash, increasing bold wind with its sound sash, increasing bold—