Our fathers and ourselves sowed dragon's teeth. Our children know and suffer the armed men.

Broad-streeted Richmond . . . The trees in the streets are old trees used to living with people, Family trees that remember your grandfather's name.

When Daniel Boone goes by at night The phantom deer arise And all lost, wild America Is burning in their eyes.

I died in my boots like a pioneer With the whole wide sky above me.

Money is sullen And wisdom is sly, But youth is the pollen That blows through the sky And does not ask why.

Dreaming men are haunted men.

When my own writing needs a perk, I open Zukofsky and read from "A" - particularly sections "22" and "23." It can be opaque, but I love the intensity.