All My Life I Have Been Trying

Now Is The Time. It Is Never Too Late To Start Something.

Poetry Is A Plan For A Slit In The Face Of A Bronze Fountain Goat And The Path Of Fresh Drinking Water.

And How Should A Beautiful, Ignorant Stream Of Water Know It Heads For An Early Release — Out Across The Desert, Running Toward The Gulf, Below Sea Level, To Murmur Its Lullaby, And See The Imperial Valley Rise Out Of Burning Sand With Cotton Blossoms, Wheat, Watermelons, Roses, How Should It Know?

You Remember Some Bedrooms You Have Slept In. There Are Bedrooms You Like To Remember And Others You Would Like To Forget.

We Live In The Time Of The Colossal Upright Oblong.