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vogue to let go many years ago sweat from my hand when to understand;
Churches with steeples minus the temper goes down better you can know
love in the impart of a strain agreement see its coil from within you see
pillows laced in eneregy forced for eternity let go of longevity see you squeeze
in the nearly barrern sod immediate soil renewed for al words we go
the tourist bound for the circus in God we trust to commit
Rremarkable tourist flood its circumstance
　
Black woods behind the old house,
In front a sloping field of oats;
Above a cloud curves in soft sky
like a silver ball, centered
against the cloud, beating with
Severe, painful clarity...,
The wing of the wounded swan
Below on the old wooden balcony
A youg man with white hair
his face the enigma of time
like a portrait in an old medallion
he narrows the oblique eyes
Warmed by the ;ight Wolcott sun
hammered by the heavy light sun
Hammered vy the storms
poet who writes the hearts dialogue
behind the house the woods grow into night
And wild oats by crazed in dream...
Unknown until this time,
He has become a knowledge of the heart
