On `To the One of Fictive Music'
I've seen a few straggling butterflies out on the skies. One can't be too careful just on a fly to the studio, with the wind, the webs and obstructions. We know well the obstructions of which I speak, dear butterflies, the loathsome machines designed by humans known as automobiles. These days more butterflies are lost on the windshields of those vehicles than to the several mouths of traditional predators.