Yours Is The Light By Which My

And Now You Are And I Am And We're A Mystery Which Will Never Happen Again.

To Destroy Is Always The First Step In Any Creation.

Certainly The Most Obvious . . . Example Of The Strictly Infantile Essence Of America's All-conquering Mentality Greets Our Eyes Daily, Anywhere And Everywhere, In The Guise Of The Tabloid Newspaper. The Tabloid Newspaper Actually Means To The Typical American Of The Era What The Bible Is Popularly Supposed To Have Meant To The Typical Pilgrim Father: Viz. A Very Present Help In Times Of Trouble, Plus A Means Of Keeping Out Of Trouble Via Harmless, Since Vicarious, Indulgence In The Pomps And Vanities Of This Wicked World.

If At The End Of Your First Ten Or Fifteen Years Of Fighting And Working And Feeling, You Find You've Written One Line Of One Poem, You'll Be Very Lucky Indeed.

If There Are Any Heavens My Mother Will(all By Herself)have One. It Will Not Be A Pansy Heaven Or A Fragile Heaven Of Lilies-of-the-valley But It Will Be A Heaven Of Blackred Roses My Father Will Be(deep Like A Rose Tall Like A Rose) Standing Near My Swaying Over Her (silent) With Eyes Which Are Really Petals And See Nothing With The Face Of A Poet Really Which Is A Flower And Not A Face With Hands Which Whisper This Is My Beloved My (suddenly In Sunlight He Will Bow, And The Whole Garden Will Bow)