It Began As Research. I Wrote Of

The Wolf Howled Under The Leaves And Spit Out The Prettiest Feathers Of His Meal Of Fowl: Like Him I Consume Myself.

What Am I Doing Here?

...you Have To Pass An Exam, And The Jobs That You Get Are Either To Shine Shoes, Or To Herd Cows, Or To Tend Pigs. Thank God, I Don't Want Any Of That! Damn It! And Besides That They Smack You For A Reward; They Call You An Animal And It's Not True, A Little Kid, Etc.. Oh! Damn Damn Damn Damn Damn!

Faith Assuages, Guides, Restores.

And From That Time On I Bathed In The Poem Of The Sea, Star-infused And Churned Into Milk, Devouring The Green Azures; Where, Entranced In Pallid Flotsam, A Dreaming Drowned Man Sometimes Goes Down.