I Lose And Find Myself In The

What's Important? That Which Is Dug Out Of Books, Or Out Of The Guts?

Beginnings Start Without Shade,thinner Than Minnows.the Live Grass Whirls With The Sun,feet Run Over The Simple Stones,there's Time Enough.behold, In The Lout's Eye, Love.

I Wish I Could Find An Event That Meant As Much As Simple Seeing.

I Always Felt Mean, Jogging Back Over The Logging Road,as If I Had Broken The Natural Order Of Things In That Swampland;disturbed Some Rhythm, Old And Of Vast Importance,by Pulling Off Flesh From The Living Planet;as If I Had Committed, Against The Whole Scheme Of Life, A Desecration.

I Came To Love, I Came Into My Own.