The Love Boat Has Crashed Against The

A Line Is A Fuse That's Lit. The Line Smolders, The Rhyme Explodes— And By A Stanza A City Is Blown To Bits.

On I’ll Pass, Dragging My Huge Love Behind Me. On What Feverish Night, Deliria-ridden, By What Goliaths Was I Begot – I, So Big And By No One Needed?

They Stood Brow To Brow, Brown To White, Black To Black, He Supporting Her Elbows, She Playing Her Limp Light Fingers Over His Collarbone, And How He "ladored,"he Said, The Dark Aroma Of Her Hair Blending With Crushed Lily Stalks, Turkish Cigarettes And The Lassitude That Comes From "lass." "no, No, Don't," She Said, I Must Wash, Quick-quick, Ada Must Wash; But For Yet Another Immortal Moment They Stood Embraced In The Hushed Avenue, Enjoying As They Had Never Enjoyed Before, The "happy-forever" Feeling At The End Of Never-ending Fairy Tales.

I Understand The Power And The Alarm Of Words - Not Those That They Applaud From Theatre-boxes, But Those Which Make Coffins Break From Bearers And On Their Four Oak Legs Walk Right Away.

Too Slow, The Wagons Of Years, The Oxen Of Days--too Glum. Our God Is The God Of Speed, Our Heart--our Battle-drum.