“I rose from marsh mudalgae, equisetum, willows,sweet green, noisybirds and frogs.”

“I was the solitary plovera pencil for a wing-boneFrom the secret notesI must tiltupon the pressureexecute and adjust In us sea-air rhythm"We live by the urgent waveof the verse”

“Can knowledge be conveyed that isn't felt?But if transport's the problem -they tell me get a job and earn yourselfan automobile-I'd rather collect my partsas I go: chair, desk, houseand crankshaft Shakespeare.Generator boy, Paul, love is carriedif it's held.”

“What would they say if they knewI sit for two monthson six lines of poetry?”

“The willow is green; flowers are red. The flower is not red; nor is the willow green.”

“There must be a marsh in the brains of these men or there would not be so many frogs of wrong ideas gathered in their heads.”

“And, sure enough, saturation begins--the staedy work of seeps and springs. Then, suddenly, cottonwoods and willows spring from the sand, their leaves gyrating into a byzantine mosaic of greens. Birds, frogs, and insects trill out brilliant improvisations--a kind of critter jazz. And as the water gathers substance, there is the ballet of tadpoles and water skeeters across the face of clear ponds.”