The world we suggest is a new wild west. A sensuous evil world. Strange and haunting, the path of the sun.

The more real you get, the more unreal the world gets.

I sit at my window gazing The world passes by, nods to me And is gone.

The same stream of life that runs through the world runs through my veins night and day.

Some day I shall sing to thee in the sunrise of some other world, I have seen thee before in the light of the earth, in the love of man.

Every poem is a momentary stay against the confusion of the world.