We Might Remember ... Not To Fear

As For Me, I Would Rather Be A Worm In A Wild Apple Than A Son Of Man. But We Are What We Are, And We Might Remember Not To Hate Any Person, For All Are Vicious; And Not To Be Astonished At Any Evil, All Are Deserved; And Not To Fear Death; It Is The Only Way To Be Cleansed.

Still The Mind Smiles At Its Own Rebellions.

The Heads Of Strong Old Age Are Beautiful Beyond All Grace Of Youth.

Well: The Day Is A Poem But Too Much Like One Of Jeffers's, Crusted With Blood And Barbaric Omens Painful To Excess, Inhuman As A Hawk's Cry.

Does It Matter Whether You Hate Yourself? At Least Love Your Eyes That Can See, Your Mind That Can Hear The Music, The Thunder Of The Wings.