The sky is cloudy and the park clammy. Green and wet under the pants.
This morning a concrete slab that had recently fallen on a bunch of working men came into our thoughts. So difficult to find concreteness in such an abstract thought as death and so we were still undecided.
We are concrete like the portico slab,
One which fell down killing laborers
Working under it, while still making.
But the faces were not that concrete.
They had abstract countenances with
Halos around them as they lay dead.
Indecision was abstract like fuzzy rain-fog about people in Darjeeling.They had no faces in our concrete thought . Just abstractions behind a sea of umbrellas.
The men who lay dead under the slab had abstract faces, with full blown halos around them. We have never known their concreteness.