As For Me, I Am

I Wonder If The Artist Ever Lives His Life--he Is So Busy Recreating It.

I Will Be Steel! I Will Build A Steel Bridge Over My Need! I Will Build A Bomb Shelter Over My Heart! But My Future Is A Secret. It Is As Shy As A Mole.

Unless I Can Shake Myself Free Of My Dog, My Flag, Of My Desk, My Mind, I Find Life A Bit Of A Drag. Not Always, Mind You. Usually I'm Like My Frying Pan Useful, Graceful, Sturdy And With No Caper, No Plan.

Earth, Earthriding Your Merry-go-roundtoward Extinction,right To The Rootsthickening The Oceans Like Gravy,festering In Your Caves,you Are Becoming A Latrine.

I Like You; Your Eyes Are Full Of Language." [letter To Anne Clarke, July 3, 1964.]