And I Walked, I Walked Through The

I Wish I Could Find An Event That Meant As Much As Simple Seeing.

Deep In Their Roots, All Flowers Keep The Light.

The Mind Enters Itself, And God The Mind, And One Is One, Free In The Tearing Wind.

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.

Time Marks Us While We Are Marking Time.