Polyphonic Prose Is A Kind Of Free

Guarded Within The Old Red Wall's Embrace, Marshalled Like Soldiers In Gay Company, The Tulips Stand Arrayed. Here Infantry Wheels Out Into The Sunlight.

If What We Worship Fail Us, Still The Fire Burns On, And It Is Much To Have Believed.

Brighter Than Fireflies Upon The Uji River Are Your Words In The Dark, Beloved.

I Should Like To Bring A Case To Trial: Prosperity Versus Beauty, Cash Registers Teetering In A Balance Against The Comfort Of The Soul.

Underneath My Stiffened Gown Is The Softness Of A Woman Bathing In A Marble Basin