Often I Look Back And See That

The Drum In A Dream Pounds Loud To The Dreamer.

I Make It Clear Why I Write As I Do And Why Other Poets Write As They Do. After Hundreds Of Experiments I Decided To Go My Own Way In Style And See What Would Happen.

I Have In Later Years Taken To Euclid, Whitehead, Bertrand Russell, In An Elemental Way.

Out Of Great Russia Came Three Dusky Syllables Workmen Took Guns And Went Out To Die For: Bread, Peace, Land.

After The Sunset On The Prairie, There Are Only The Stars