The Poet: Would Rather Eat A Heart

When I Go Mad, I Call My Friends By Phone: I Am Afraid They Might Think They're Alone.

And Soon A Branch, Part Of A Hidden Scene,the Leafy Mind, That Long Was Tightly Furled,will Turn Its Private Substance Into Green,and Young Shoots Spread Upon Our Inner World.

I Learn By Going Where I Have To Go.

And I Walked, I Walked Through The Light Air; I Moved With The Morning.

The Fields Stretch Out In Long Unbroken Rows. We Walk Aware Of What Is Far And Close. Here Distance Is Familiar As A Friend. The Feud We Kept With Space Comes To An End.