I Hold It To Be The Inalienable

I Was Under Twenty When I Deliberately Put It To Myself One Night After Good Conversation That There Are Moments When We Actually Touch In Talk What The Best Writing Can Only Come Near. The Curse Of Our Book Language Is Not So Much That It Keeps Forever To The Same Set Phrases . . . But That It Sounds Forever With The Same Reading Tones. We Must Go Out Into The Vernacular For Tones That Haven't Been Brought To Book.

Unless I'm Wrong I But Obey The Urge Of A Song: I'm-bound-away! And I May Return If Dissatisfied With What I Learn From Having Died.

Let Me Be The One To Do What Is Done.

But Strictly Held By None, Is Loosely Bound By Countless Silken Ties Of Love And Thought To Everything On Earth The Compass Round, And Only By One's Going Slightly Taut In The Capriciousness Of Summer Air Is Of The Slightest Bondage Made Aware.

The Hurt Is Not Enough: I Long For Weight And Strength. To Feel The Earth As Rough To All My Length