Art Is Our Defense Against Hysteria And

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

The Stones Were Sharp, The Wind Came At My Back; Walking Along The Highway, Mincing Like A Cat.

The Light Comes Brighter From The East; The Cawof Restive Crows Is Sharper On The Ear.

The Mind Enters Itself, And God The Mind, And One Is One, Free In The Tearing Wind.

And Soon A Branch, Part Of A Hidden Scene,the Leafy Mind, That Long Was Tightly Furled,will Turn Its Private Substance Into Green,and Young Shoots Spread Upon Our Inner World.