Every Golden Age Is As Much A

If Children Are Not Permitted-not Taught-to Be Adventurers And Explorers As Children, What Will Become Of The World...?

Every Golden Age Is As Much A Matter Of Disregard As Of Felicity.

They Lay There For A Few Seconds, In The Dark, In The Future, Listening To The Fabulous Clockwork Of Their Hearts And Lungs, And Loving Each Other

There Were So Many Pittsburgh Poets In My Hallway That If, At That Instant, A Meteorite Had Come Smashing Through My Roof, There Would Never Have Been Another Stanza Written About Rusting Fathers And Impotent Steelworkers And The Bessemer Convertor Of Love.

[i]n 1938, Superman Appeared. He Had Been Mailed To The Offices Of National Periodical Publications From Cleveland, By A Couple Of Jewish Boys Who Had Imbued Him With The Powers Of A Hundred Men, Of A Distant World, And Of The Full Measure Of Their Bespectacled Adolescent Hopefulness And Desperation.