Nature Is Full Of Teeth That Come

The Ground Has On Its Clothes. The Trees Poke Out Of Sheets And Each Branch Wears The Sock Of God.

It Is In The Small Things We See It. The Child's First Step, As Awesome As An Earthquake. The First Time You Rode A Bike, Wallowing Up The Sidewalk.

But Even In A Telephone Booth Evil Can Seep Out Of The Receiver And We Must Cover It With A Mattress, And Then Tear It From Its Roots And Bury It, Bury It.

I Like You; Your Eyes Are Full Of Language." [letter To Anne Clarke, July 3, 1964.]

Poor Thing. To Die And Never See Brooklyn.