Don't Touch Me, I'm Full Of Snakes.

And Before Me Was The Great Raw Bulge And Bulk Of My American Continent; Somewhat Far Across, Gloomy, Crazy New York Was Throwing Up Its Cloud Of Dust And Brown Steam. There Is Something Brown And Holy About The East; And California Is White Like Washlines And Emptyheaded - At Least That's What I Thought Then.

We Tiptoed Around Each Other Like Heartbreaking New Friends.

And As Far As I Can See The World Is Too Old For Us To Talk About It With Our New Words.

...most Of The Time We Were Alone And Mixing Up Our Souls Ever More And Ever More Till It Would Be Terribly Hard To Say Good-by.

Something Good Will Come Out Of All Things Yet — And It Will Be Golden And Eternal Just Like That.