It Was Far In The Sameness Of

Freedom Is When You Are Easy In The Harness.

Before Now Poetry Has Taken Notice Of Wars, And What Are Wars But Politics Transformed From Chronic To Acute And Bloody?

Gathering Leaves Spades Take Up Leaves No Better Than Spoons, And Bags Full Of Leaves Are Light As Balloons. I Make A Great Noise Of Rustling All Day Like Rabbit And Deer Running Away. But The Mountains I Raise Elude My Embrace, Flowing Over My Arms And Into My Face. I May Load And Unload Again And Again Till I Fill The Whole Shed, And What Have I Then? Next To Nothing For Weight, And Since They Grew Duller From Contact With Earth, Next To Nothing For Color. Next To Nothing For Use. But A Crop Is A Crop, And Who's To Say Where The Harvest Shall Stop?

Let Him That Is Without Stone Among You Cast The First Thing He Can Lay His Hands On.

Man That Is Of Woman Born Is Apt To Be As Vain Has His Mother.