And Let Me Die Suddenly, To Be

Out Of The Sky, The Birds, The Parrots, The Bells, Silk, Cloth, And Drums, Out Of Sundays Dancing, Children's Words And Love Words, Out Of Love For The Little Fists Of Children, I Will Build A World, My World With Round Shoulders.

Poetic Knowledge Is Born In The Great Silence Of Scientific Knowledge.

The Weakness Of Most Men They Do Not Know How To Become A Stone Or Tree.

Africa, Help Me To Go Home, Carry Me Like An Aged Child In Your Arms. Undress Me And Wash Me. Strip Me Of All Of These Garments, Strip Me As A Man Strips Off Dreams When The Dawn Comes. . . .

Communism Has Served Us Ill In Having Us Swap A Living Brotherhood For What Looks To Have The Features Of The Coldest Of All Chill Abstractions.