For This Beauty, Beauty Without Strength, Chokes

Lift Up Our Eyes To You? No, God, We Stare And Stare, Upon A Nearer Thing That Greets Us Here, Death, Violent And Near.

The Christos-image Is Most Difficult To Disentangle From Its Art-craft Junk-shop Paint-and-plaster Medieval Jumble Of Pain-worship And Death-symbol.

Maid Of The Luminous Grey-eyes, Mistress Of Honey And Marble Implacable White Thighs And Goddess, Chaste Daughter Of Zeus.

I Knew The Poor, I Knew The Hideous Death They Die, When Famine Lays Its Bleak Hand On The Door; I Knew The Rich, Sated With Merriment, Who Yet Are Sad.

We Don't Have To Know,only To Be:let Go The Jumble Of Worn Words,reason And Vanity.