But I, From Poetry's Skies, Plunge Into

If You Like I'll Be Furious Flesh Elemental, Or- Changing To Tones That The Sunset Arouses- If You Like- I'll Be Extraordinary Gentle, Not A Man But - A Cloud In Trousers.

I Understand The Power And The Alarm Of Words - Not Those That They Applaud From Theatre-boxes, But Those Which Make Coffins Break From Bearers And On Their Four Oak Legs Walk Right Away.

Gentle Souls! You Play Your Love On The Violin. The Crude Ones Play It On The Drums Violently. But Can You Turn Yourselves Inside Out, Like Me And Become Just Two Lips Entirely?

On The Pavement Of My Trampled Soul The Steps Of Madmen Weave The Prints Of Rude Crude Words.

Past One O’clock. You Must Have Gone To Bed. The Milky Way Streams Silver Through The Night. I’m In No Hurry; With Lightning Telegrams I Have No Cause To Wake Or Trouble You. And, As They Say, The Incident Is Closed. Love’s Boat Has Smashed Against The Daily Grind. Now You And I Are Quits. Why Bother Then To Balance Mutual Sorrows, Pains, And Hurts. Behold What Quiet Settles On The World. Night Wraps The Sky In Tribute From The Stars. In Hours Like These, One Rises To Address The Ages, History, And All Creation.