By Night The Skyscraper Looms In The

Who Am I, Where Have I Been, And Where Am I Going?

I Couldn't See Myself Filling Some Definite Niche In What Is Called A Career. This Was All Misty.

It Is Necessary Now And Then For A Man To Go Away By Himself And Experience Loneliness; To Sit On A Rock In The Forest And To Ask Of Himself, 'who Am I, And Where Have I Been, And Where Am I Going?'...if One Is Not Careful, One Allows Diversions To Take Up One's Time-the Stuff Of Life

Poetry Is Statement Of A Series Of Equations, With Numbers And Symbols Changing Like The Changes Of Mirrors, Pools, Skies, The Only Never-changing Sign Being The Sign Of Infinity.

So I Turn Once More To Those Who Sneer At This My City, And I Give Them Back The Sneer And Say To Them: Come And Show Me Another City With Lifted Head Singing So Proud To Be Alive And Coarse And Strong And Cunning.