Plant A Garden In Which Strange Plants

I Lay In Bed The Night Before The Fishing Trip And Thought It Over, About My Being Deaf, About The Years Of Not Letting On I Heard What Was Said, And I Wonder If I Can Ever Act Any Other Way Again. But I Remembered One Thing: It Wasn't Me That Started Acting Deaf; It Was People That First Started Acting Like I Was Too Dumb To Hear Or See Or Say Anything At All.

I Been Away A Long Time.

A Sound Of Cornered-animal Fear And Hate And Surrender And Defiance . . . Like The Last Sound The Treed And Shot And Falling Animal Makes As The Dogs Get Him, When He Finally Doesn't Care About Anything But Himself And His Dying.

He Was In His Chair In The Corner, Resting A Second Before He Came Out For The Next Round -- In A Long Line Of Next Rounds. The Thing He Was Fighting, You Couldn't Whip It For Good. All You Could Do Was Keep On Whipping It, Till You Couldn't Come Out Anymore And Somebody Else Had To Take Your Place.

If This Glorious Birth To Death Hassle Is The Only Hassle We Are Ever To Have ..if Our Grand Exhilarating Fight Of Life Is Such A Tragically Short Little Scrap Anyway,compared To The Eons Of Rounds Before And After-then Why Should One Want To Relinquish Even A Few Precious Seconds Of It?