Everything possessed the power to transform itself, or else, and what meant more, to be transformed.

Throw away the light, the definitions, and say what you see in the dark.

Key West, unfortunately, is becoming rather literary and artistic.

At the sight of blackbirds Flying in a green light, Even the bawds of euphony Would cry out sharply.

I am what is around me.

I am the angel of Reality, Seen for a moment standing in the door.

Out of this same light, out of the central mind, We make a dwelling in the evening air, In which being there together is enough.