Love: A Burnt Match Skating In A

The Form Of My Poem Rises Out Of A Past That So Overwhelms The Present With Its Worth And Vision That I'm At A Loss To Explain My Delusion That There Exist Any Real Links Between That Past And A Future Worthy Of It.

Love: A Burnt Match Skating In A Urinal.

Your Primary Presumption That The Bridge Was Proffered As An Epic Has No Substantial Foundation. You Know Quite Well That I Doubt That Our Present Stage Of Cultural Development Is So Ordered Yet As To Provide The Means Or Method For Such An Organic Manifestation As That.

I Can Remember Much Forgetfulness.

The Fact That The Bridge Contains Folk Lore And Other Material Suitable To The Epic Form Need Not Therefore Prove Its Failure As A Long Lyric Poem, With Interrelated Sections.