So We Found The End Of Our

This House Has Been Far Out At Sea All Night, The Woods Crashing Through Darkness, The Booming Hills, Winds Stampeding The Fields Under The Window Floundering Black Astride And Blinding Wet Till Day Rose; Then Under An Orange Sky The Hills Had New Places, And Wind Wielded Blade-light, Luminous Black And Emerald, Flexing Like The Lens Of A Mad Eye.

The Shell The Sea Fills My Ear With Sand And With Fear. You May Wash Out The Sand, But Never The Sound Of The Ghost Of The Sea That Is Haunting Me.

As Popa Penetrates Deeper Into His Life, With Book After Book, It Begins To Look Like A Universe Passing Through A Universe. It Is One Of The Most Exciting Things In Modern Poetry, To Watch This Journey Being Made.

So We Found The End Of Our Journey. So We Stood, Alive In The River Of Light, Among The Creatures Of Light, Creatures Of Light.

It Took The Whole Of Creation To Produce My Foot, My Each Feather: Now I Hold Creation In My Foot.