Ditty Of First Desire In The Green

To Burn With Desire And Keep Quiet About It Is The Greatest Punishment We Can Bring On Ourselves.

New York Is Something Awful, Something Monstrous. I Like To Walk The Streets, Lost, But I Recognize That New York Is The World's Greatest Lie. New York Is Senegal With Machines.

I Was Lucky Enough To See With My Own Eyes The Recent Stock-market Crash, Where They Lost Several Million Dollars, A Rabble Of Dead Money That Went Sliding Off Into The Sea. Never As Then, Amid Suicides, Hysteria, And Groups Of Fainting People, Have I Felt The Sensation Of Real Death, Death Without Hope, Death That Is Nothing But Rottenness, For The Spectacle Was Terrifying But Devoid Of Greatness... I Felt Something Like A Divine Urge To Bombard That Whole Canyon Of Shadow, Where Ambulances Collected Suicides Whose Hands Were Full Of Rings.

The Little Mute Boy The Little Boy Was Looking For His Voice. (the King Of The Crickets Had It.) In A Drop Of Water The Little Boy Was Looking For His Voice. I Do Not Want It For Speaking With; I Will Make A Ring Of It So That He May Wear My Silence On His Little Finger In A Drop Of Water The Little Boy Was Looking For His Voice. (the Captive Voice, Far Away, Put On A Cricket's Clothes.) Translated By William S. Merwin

Fire Is Fed By Fire. The Same Small Flame Destroys Two Stalks Of Wheat At Once.