Say it! No ideas but in things.

I will teach you my townspeoplehow to perform a funeralfor you have it over a troopof artists--unless one should scour the world--you have the ground sense necessary.

The poem, to me (until I go broke) is an attempt, an experiment, a failing experiment, toward assertion with broken means but an assertion, always, of a new and total culture, the lifting of an environment to expression. Thus it is social, the poem is a social instrument.

My surface is myself.
Under which
to witness, youth is
buried. Roots?
Everybody has roots.

I am lonely, lonely.I was born to be lonely,I am best so!

Their story, yours and mine -- it