Death Is A Meeting Place Of Sea

Oh, I've Discarded A Great Many [poems]. And Occasionally I've Discarded And Then Resurrected. I Would Find A Crumpled Yellow Ball Of Paper In The Wastebasket, In The Morning, And Open It To See What The Hell I'd Been Up To; And Occasionally It Was Something That Needed Only A Very Slight Change To Be Brought Off, Which I'd Missed The Day Before.

I Do Believe In This Evolution Of Consciousness As The Only Thing Which We Can Embark On, Or In Fact, Willy-nilly, Are Embarked On; And Along With That Will Go The Spiritual Discoveries And, I Feel, The Inexhaustible Wonder That One Feels, That Opens More And More The More You Know. It's Simply That This Increasing Knowledge Constantly Enlarges Your Kingdom And The Capacity For Admiring And Loving The Universe.

Separate We Come, And Separate We Go, And This Be It Known, Is All That We Know.

I've Tried It Long Ago, With Hashish And Peyote. Fascinating, Yes, But No Good, No. This, As We Find In Alcohol, Is An Escape From Awareness, A Cheat, A Momentary Substitution, And In The End A Destruction Of It.

Life Is The Thing--the Song Of Life-- The Eager Plow, The Thirsty Knife!