From "It Was Never Really Different," a poem in Ursula K. Le Guin's Always Coming Home [about which I said]:
When I hit the drum like this,/ I think the sound/ was there before the beginning,/ and everything has gone to make that sound,/ and after it/ everything is different.
From "It Was Never Really Different," a poem in Ursula K. Le Guin's Always Coming Home [about which I said]: