Not Until It Starts To Stink Does

We Might Realize That The Present Moment May Be One Of An Eternal Or Sempiternal Series Of Moments, All Of Which Will Resemble It Because, In Some Ways, They Are The Present, And Won't In Other Ways, Because The Present Will Be The Past By That Time.

I Like Poems You Can Tack All Over With A Hammer And There Are No Hollow Places.

How Many People Came And Stayed A Certain Time, Uttered Light Or Dark Speech That Became Part Of You Like Light Behind Windblown Fog And Sand Filtered And Influenced By It, Until No Part Remains That Is Surely You.

It Is Because Everything Is Relative That We Shall Never See In That Sphere Of Pure Wisdom And Entertainment Much More Than Groping Shadows Of An Incomplete Former Existence So Close It Burns Like The Mouth That Closes Down Over All Your Effort Like The Moment Of Death

Somewhere Someone Is Traveling Furiously Toward You, At Incredible Speed, Traveling Day And Night.