God Bless The Roots! Body And Soul

I Am Overwhelmed By The Beautiful Disorder Of Poetry, The Eternal Virginity Of Words.

Fear Was My Father, Father Fear. His Look Drained The Stones.

In The Kingdom Of Bang And Blab.

A Lively Understandable Spirit Once Entertained You. It Will Come Again. Be Still. Wait.

And What A Congress Of Stinks!- Roots Ripe As Old Bait, Pulpy Stems, Rank, Silo-rich, Leaf Mold, Manure, Lime, Piled Against Slippery Planks, Nothing Would Give Up Life: Even The Dirt Kept Breathing A Small Breath.