5

Epigraph

On a New Gene in God’s Pocket

he old road ends, abruptly: at river or cliff

or in the middle of an unplowed field;

And beyond lies only valor or loneliness;

freedom; perhaps death.

Would that life brought you that road

of no return

into the land where giants grow.

In that hour may you discover magic talismans:

A broad grass-blade to whistle on sometimes,

Flint to kindle fire against the night,

and small dart eyed with blue steel

and fletched with three red feathers.