My Opinion by David Macleod

My opinion floats before me, ovum orshade. Vision! Clearvision, that would be channing butin thisgroping murk Ifind no solid I can hold to my eyes. If on afloor I could set foot butI've no foot, normuch conviction of flooring which isanyway therebyrendered irrelevant — withone thought gripping themurk Iguarantee brain, penis, gullet or theirintellectual peers. Operfect solace ! Notrue happiness needbe denied : uponreceipt of whichgorgeous assurance themist coagulates in food and girls. Indeed I have ashrewd suspicion there wasnever an opinion there.______________________________And you come to a river. Tallcreepers dropped to the surface. Stillfloor of water.It ishere you will find her — here,if anywhere. Wideconfidence of moving, almost motionless, water.She comes to you now, from the deep forest. Whatimmaculate grace. Every leaf andstem twisting precisely;matting all but invisibly the gleaming surface ofwater.