Kim Dorland, Hitchhiker, 2009 oil and acrylic on wood 36 x 40 inches Epigraph [ from Earth Dances] for Reg The suffering of stony, high horizons, Under the stir of air, sharpens. And the water-torture of gorges, hoarse wounds That cannot cease to be, deepens. Listening to moorland is a headfull of ether. The bones of the eye-socket Go inane. The bones of the ear Hallucinate a ghost. The soul clings to its skull Like a tremor To a tuft of bog-cotton. Or leaps onto a lark's back With an idiot song, lost in air.