What thoughts I have of you tonight, Walt Whitman, for I walked down thestreets
For a hundred years or more the world, our world, has been dying. And not
I wonder what your idea of heaven would be — A beautiful vacuum filled
We arrived at Council Bluffs at dawn; I looked out; all winter I’d been
La libertad, Sancho, es uno de los mas preciados dones que a los hombres
All my life I have been acutely aware of a contradiction in the very nature
Utopia lies at the horizon. When I draw nearer by two steps, it retreats
Was I ignorant, then, when I was seventeen? I think not. I knew everything.