In The Kingdom Of Bang

The Mind Enters Itself, And God The Mind, And One Is One, Free In The Tearing Wind.

How Terrible The Need For God.

All Finite Things Reveal Infinitude: The Mountain With Its Singular Bright Shade Like The Blue Shine On Freshly Frozen Snow, The After-light Upon Ice-burdened Pines; Odor Of Basswood Upon A Mountain Slope, A Scene Beloved Of Bees; Silence Of Water Above A Sunken Tree: The Pure Serene Of Memory Of One Man,- A Ripple Widening From A Single Stone Winding Around The Waters Of The World.

I Long For The Imperishable Quiet At The Heart Of Form.

Fear Was My Father, Father Fear. His Look Drained The Stones.