His eviction notice was his own overwhelming desire to get out. He had to leave this place immediately. It was not a matter of escaping here; it was a matter of being there, a there unknown apart from its distance, a distance from which he could see home whole against the sky, a distance prescribed to those who wish to love perfectly.
He stripped some bark from a nearby tree. On the bark’s smooth inner wall he created a map. He paused to admire it, and indulged a pompous urge to declare it good. Then he set off to survey the edges of the world. As he traveled and traced out his path on his map, the shape that emerged was good news. With a completed map he would finally leave his home behind.
In the end,
the trees will grow like snakes,
splitting and sloughing bark,
bending in coils of green heartwood;
and the snakes will grow like trees,
depositing skin under skin,
and in their turgid leather casings,
they will lie about on the ground
like broken branches.
(Original here. Improved?)