I Love You, What Star Do You

Oh, I've Discarded A Great Many [poems]. And Occasionally I've Discarded And Then Resurrected. I Would Find A Crumpled Yellow Ball Of Paper In The Wastebasket, In The Morning, And Open It To See What The Hell I'd Been Up To; And Occasionally It Was Something That Needed Only A Very Slight Change To Be Brought Off, Which I'd Missed The Day Before.

I've Tried It Long Ago, With Hashish And Peyote. Fascinating, Yes, But No Good, No. This, As We Find In Alcohol, Is An Escape From Awareness, A Cheat, A Momentary Substitution, And In The End A Destruction Of It.

For In This Walk, This Voyage, It Is Yourself, The Profound History Of Your 'self,' That Now As Always You Encounter.

Ghostly Above Us In Lamplight The Towers Gleam ... And After A While They Will Fall To Dust And Rain; Or Else We Will Tear Them Down With Impatient Hands; And Hew Rock Out Of The Earth, And Build Them Again.

Life Is The Thing--the Song Of Life-- The Eager Plow, The Thirsty Knife!