The symbol of all art is the Prism. The goal is unrealism. The method is destructive. To break up the white light of objective realism, into the secret glories which it contains.

I will take the sun in my mouth and leap into the ripe air Alive with closed eyes to dash against darkness

because it's Spring thingS dare to do people (& not the other way round)because it 's A pril Lives lead their own persons(in stead of everybodyelse's)but what's wholly marvellous my Darling is that you & i are more than you & i(be ca us e It's we)

since the thing perhaps is to eat flowers and not to be afraid

(and from my thighs which shrug and pant a murdering rain leapingly reaches the upward singular deepest flower which she carries in a gesture of her hips)

may my heart always be open to little birds who are the secrets of living

Unbeing dead isn't being alive.