Should We Say The Self, Once Perceived,

Reason? That Dreary Shed, That Hutch For Grubby Schoolboys.

I Came Where The River Ran Over Stones; My Ears Knew An Early Joy. And All The Waters Of All The Streams Sang In My Veins That Summer Day.

I Wish I Could Find An Event That Meant As Much As Simple Seeing.

I Can't Go On Flying Apart Just For Those Who Want The Benefit Of A Few Verbal Kicks. My God, Do You Know What Poems Like That Cost? They're Not Written Vicariously: They Come Out Of Actual Suffering, Real Madness.

Wake The Happy Words.