In The Kingdom Of Bang And Blab.

I Learned Not To Fear Infinity, The Far Field, The Windy Cliffs Of Forever, The Dying Of Time In The White Light Of Tomorrow, The Wheel Turning Away From Itself, The Sprawl Of The Wave, The On-coming Water.

Over Every Mountain There Is A Path, Although It May Not Be Seen From The Valley.

The Light Comes Brighter From The East; The Cawof Restive Crows Is Sharper On The Ear.

You Must Believe A Poem Is A Holy Thing, A Good Poem, That Is.

And What A Congress Of Stinks!- Roots Ripe As Old Bait, Pulpy Stems, Rank, Silo-rich, Leaf Mold, Manure, Lime, Piled Against Slippery Planks, Nothing Would Give Up Life: Even The Dirt Kept Breathing A Small Breath.