Page 442
By Jack Joseph Smith
Perfect
Familiar there
Quite then a possibility
A start of a stream of words
A music toward death
We understand in sound said
and played, the wonder of lovelyness
Death as a child then awakening to the
death of life itself, with humble care
we take our way with our kind love
Then sing no more and slash with out hurt
And the wild winged we quit in the sky
to be the animals of false gods
Through the vally no reach
Dislike and distaste are no
courage for mountains bound