The Bride, The White Bride Today A

I'm Afraid To Be On This Shore A Trunk Without Limbs, And What I Most Regret Is Not To Have Flower, Pulp, Or Clay For The Worm Of My Suffering.

Damned, Damned Be The Rich! May Not Even Their Fingernails Be Left!... I'm Sure That They Are Going To Hell Head-first.

The Two Elements The Traveler First Captures In The Big City Are Extra Human Architecture And Furious Rhythm. Geometry And Anguish.

The Terrible, Cold, Cruel Part Is Wall Street. Rivers Of Gold Flow There From All Over The Earth, And Death Comes With It. There, As Nowhere Else, You Feel A Total Absence Of The Spirit: Herds Of Men Who Cannot Count Past Three, Herds More Who Cannot Get Past Six, Scorn For Pure Science And Demoniacal Respect For The Present. And The Terrible Thing Is That The Crowd That Fills The Street Believes That The World Will Always Be The Same And That It Is Their Duty To Keep That Huge Machine Running, Day And Night, Forever.

Today In My Heart A Vague Trembling Of Stars And All Roses Are As White As My Pain.