I Had Been Keeping An Off Eye

I Been A Wanderin' Early And Late, New York City To The Golden Gate An' It Looks Like I'm Never Gonna Cease My Wanderin'.

It Is Necessary ... For A Man To Go Away By Himself ... To Sit On A Rock ... And Ask, 'who Am I, Where Have I Been, And Where Am I Going?

Poetry Is A Fossil Rock-print Of A Fin And A Wing, With An Illegible Oath Between.

Arithmetic Is Numbers You Squeeze From Your Head To Your Hand To Your Pencil To Your Paper Till You Get The Answer.

Lay Me On An Anvil, O God. Beat Me And Hammer Me Into A Steel Spike.