O how nice it will be in the final days—admired by the angels of the moon—the moon twice as large 
    and twice as bright
& in the no-electricity nights to rediscover our own dimm'd bioluminescence
And we all of us sharing crocodile milk and sleeping w/ coyotes—
No one works except to harvest—
And don't you think they will be bringing back a lot of beautiful interesting ppl for the Final Judgment?
Like Chris Toll—all glowing body re-antler’d—O the promise of conversation!
Anamnesis—it meant something to me yesterday but I didn't write it down and so I've lost it—but I 
    know what I will be doing is remembering—as part of some great remembering project—
    remembering everything and you will be forgetting and throwing away
(just like you sad mopey gave up yr tail wanting to be something other than an animal)
It's wrong to want to be raptured—it's a sin!
but Harold Camping says, Yes, yes I was wrong but I'm right about Satan, I'm right about Hell and 
    terrifying agony and anyway it's coming—don't stop worrying now! Don't stop sending money! 
    Unless you are a sparrow or a lily you are fuckt. And you are not a sparrow or a lily!

Listen—in those final days everyone dances like my son Asher knees waist head like banging a drum 
    w/ yr body