Edward Posset's Conversation With The Wind

i am the wind, edward posset

you do not know me wind; i am not your syllabub

i am the dry lane of your lame life, deal ivory con mot

i am edward posset, wind, state your case or go

i am the moving thresher, weird and eaten head-edward, guardian

i cannot recall you, and furthermore, if an eye at the end of a stalk were to view you, what would it view? shadows themselves course in my veins.

you are vain, built no-thing, the nothingness pervasive is my heavy name

and by that same token, rather rigidly intent thing, what difference is there i ask between us?

edward!

sand hag! literarily derivative arihagne-wind-voice thing!

you are no better than i!

o duarte..

won't you do art?

well i should 

if i would i guess

increasingly sinister

wind bag..