the now and that, march 17th

I was thinking about radiation, whereby there is a sort of invitation, that where there in follows the meeting, in the body, a handshake let's say, passes, between the radiation and the irradiated things, cells of organs, for example (I'm no expert). They shake hands on their promise to colloborate on cancer. I suppose it is considered a chance to thrive. And so fate is a promise of the past to the future. Centred around a specific location and entity, for example the body. The irradiated body is a scene of promise.

I was just thinking about this recently, that's all, given the situation (or the promised situation, mired in shrill media typical hype -- or is it? How to know) /that was a question.

Of course, it is all in Robert Duncan, Ground Work 1&2 -- here is an example, granted me by google books (my mother once kindly got this for me, at christmas, from off my wishlist, but instead therewas delivered a book of mainly photographs, and the photographs were of (very lovely) furniture made by those white people who invaded america. They made great furniture) (the bottom bit, of the poem, is partly what I mean)

in any case, staying here of course, thick and thin etc. Old Chapp. And? If anyone is feeling generous, send me Robert Duncan's Ground Work, ta very much, for succour in this crisis that is uncertain here, and certain elsewhere, sad daft life and that, here there.