Whither goest thou, America, in thy shiny car in the night?

One man practicing kindness in the wilderness is worth all the temples this world pulls.

We were on the roof of America and all we could do was yell

Her little shoulders drove me mad; I hugged her and hugged her. And she loved it. 'I love love,' she said, closing her eyes. I promised her beautiful love. I gloated over her. Our stories were told; we subsided into silence and sweet anticipatory thoughts. It was as simple as that. You could have all your Peaches and Bettys and Marylous and Ritas and Camilles and Inezes in this world; this was my girl and my kind of girlsoul, and I told her that.

She spoke of evenings in the country making popcorn on the porch. Once this would have gladdened my heart but because her heart was not glad when she said it I knew there was nothing in it but the idea of what one should do.

You seek identity in the midst of indistinguishab le chaos, in sprawling nameless reality.

I want a blaze of light to flame in me forever in a timeless, dear love of everything. And why should I pretend to want anything else?