The Canadian Voice Is Still Too Rustic.

I Have Had To Learn The Simplest Things Last. Which Made For Difficulties.

Forgive Me If I Sleep Until I Wake Up.

What Pudor Pejorocracy Affronts How Awe, Night-rest And Neighborhood Can Rot What Breeds Where Dirtiness Is Law What Crawls Below

The Flowers Are Ravined By Bees, The Fruit Blossoms Are Thrown To The Ground, The Wind The Rain Forces Everything.

Whatever You Have To Say, Leave The Roots On, Let Them Dangle And The Dirt Just To Make Clear Where They Come From.