Even In Hell, If A Man Was

Our Earth Is But A Small Star In A Great Universe. Yet Of It We Can Make, If We Choose, A Planet Unvexxed By War, Untroubled By Hunger Or Fear, Undivided By Senseless Distinctions Of Race, Color Or Theory.

Dreaming Men Are Haunted Men.

Seine And Piave Are Silver Spoons, But The Spoonbowl-metal Is Thin And Worn

When My Own Writing Needs A Perk, I Open Zukofsky And Read From "a" - Particularly Sections "22" And "23." It Can Be Opaque, But I Love The Intensity.

When Daniel Boone Goes By At Night The Phantom Deer Arise And All Lost, Wild America Is Burning In Their Eyes.