MY ANCESTORS My ancestors abound within me: one of them was stupid. Fields pressed down with a mat of grasses, houses squatting to spread lawns, bright clover right up to the fence, made him think he knew where his place was like a beast coming up to its stall satisfied. He had warm sides, an open mouth, and a hollow place in the head he filled up with devotion and trust, simple trust, a trust so stupid he thought the world was always and everywhere a blessing.