The loose elements, this striving toward the
Kingdom. The body is a blessing. I wait in
A foothold and bury the evidence. For years
A lamb strutted around on a hillside, never lonely.
The milk of kindness is stirred in a gigantic pot.
My shabby clothes, the sheen of them in the
Moonlight, I remember what I used to be. This
Is good, and it is also not good. Aristocrats and
Barley are carried on a little donkey. And now
We end up with taxi drivers walking by the sea.
The light raimant of my dark voice tells you a
Truth. The world will pardon me for being foul
And mad for a time, yet the dogs bark softly until
The purple night wind is all but gone again.