Since The Thing Perhaps Is

I Thank You God For Most This Amazing Day:for The Leaping Greenly Spirits Of Trees And A Blue True Dream Of Sky; And For Everything Which Is Natural Which Is Infinite Which Is Yes (i Who Have Died Am Alive Again Today, And This Is The Sun's Birthday; This Is The Birth Day Of Life And Of Love And Wings: And Of The Gay Great Happening Illimitably Earth) How Should Tasting Touching Hearing Seeing Breathing Any--lifted From The No Of All Nothing--human Merely Being Doubt Unimaginable You? (now The Ears Of My Ears Awake And Now The Eyes Of My Eyes Are Opened)

...sunlight Is (life And Day Are)only Loaned:whereas Night Is Given(night And Death And The Rain Are Given;and Given Is How Beautifully Snow)

I Was Too Tired To Think. I Merely Felt The Town As A Unique Unreality. What Was It? I Knew -- The Moon's Picture Of A Town. These Streets With Their Houses Did Not Exist, They Were But A Ludicrous Projection Of The Moon's Sumptuous Personality. This Was A City Of Pretend, Created By The Hypnotism Of Moonnight. -- Yet When I Examined The Moon She Too Seemed But A Painting Of A Moon And The Sky In Which She Lived A Fragile Echo Of Color. If I Blew Hard The Whole Shy Mechanism Would Collapse Gently With A Neat Soundless Crash. I Must Not, Or Lose All.

If There Are Any Heavens My Mother Will(all By Herself)have One. It Will Not Be A Pansy Heaven Or A Fragile Heaven Of Lilies-of-the-valley But It Will Be A Heaven Of Blackred Roses My Father Will Be(deep Like A Rose Tall Like A Rose) Standing Near My Swaying Over Her (silent) With Eyes Which Are Really Petals And See Nothing With The Face Of A Poet Really Which Is A Flower And Not A Face With Hands Which Whisper This Is My Beloved My (suddenly In Sunlight He Will Bow, And The Whole Garden Will Bow)

The Artist Is No Other Than He Who Unlearns What He Has Learned, In Order To Know Himself.