How Terrible The Need For God.

I Came To Love, I Came Into My Own.

I Can Hear, Underground, That Sucking And Sobbing, In My Veins, In My Bones I Feel It,- The Small Water Seeping Upward, The Tight Grains Parting At Last. When Sprouts Break Out, Slippery As Fish, I Quail, Lean To Beginnings, Sheath-wet.

Art Is Our Defense Against Hysteria And Death.

Let Others Probe The Mystery If They Can.time-harried Prisoners Of Shall And Will -the Right Thing Happens To The Happy Man.

The Visible Exhausts Me. I Am Dissolved In Shadow.