An American Is A Complex Of Occasions,

What Can We Do When Even The Public Conveyances Sing? How Can We Go Anywhere, Even Cross-town How Get Out Of Anywhere

I Have Had To Learn The Simplest Things Last. Which Made For Difficulties.

Knowledge Is The Harvest Of Attention

The Poem, For Me, Is Simply The First Sound Realized In The Modality Of Being.

The Flowers Are Ravined By Bees, The Fruit Blossoms Are Thrown To The Ground, The Wind The Rain Forces Everything.