It Is No Madness To Say You

The Laying Of Fish On The Embers, The Taste Of The Fish, The Feel Of The Texture Of Bread, The Round And The Half-loaf, The Grain Of A Petal, The Rain-bow And The Rain.

We Are These People, Wistful, Ironical, Wilful, Who Have No Part In New-world Reconstruction, In The Confederacy Of Labour.

We Are Voyagers, Discoverers Of The Not-known, The Unrecorded; We Have No Map; Possibly We Will Reach Haven, Heaven.

Every Concrete Object Has Abstract Value, Is Timeless In The Dream Parallel.

You Will Not See That Desire Begets Love, Until It All Flames Into One Concise And Metallic Blaze.