Red Clay Weather

Approximately Nothing

—73 Approximately Nothing Any unanswerable problem is a god, some sky from which winter falls and the rains of no significance, another plush and vagrant error overflowing local sewers. (He was the weight of the world, the grace of fact frosting the windowpanes, this pain disguised as rain. My never-friend and guide to coldscapes seen through glass, sharp-edged but also blurred, too eager to be compromised, mythologized: he was that too, and saved me just enough.) The accidental ghosts break through bare branches like late winter light, and then retreat, the penitentiary sky shuts down again. And Shakespeare is a backyard sparrow foraging crumbs, the frayed and faded cardinals chase it away. They are a little policy of secrecy and domain, pugnacious reign. If it were human, it would know me, call me by my name. shepherd text-2.indd 73 11/22/10 2:07 PM ...