there is no time to
wait (for my ink
to dry)
feelings rush faster than
thoughts
and besides, who, in the
end, has much care for
thinking
save those who’ve
never felt?

& oh! what a glorious sense
it is

madness and heat in
forms of rolling waves of
perfection that
cannot consider to
lessen their
golden blow,
to feel so strong as
shades of hue or
notes of
song (sometimes soft &
sometimes
long)
but
always
always
BOLD in
Life &
Flavor!

what true feeling,
is this!

Thought comes in
harsh with the bronze of
autumn harvest,
yellowed in dandelion
spite
and everlasting as the
rain—
falls ‘gain in
seasons past for
we never
let it sit.

Thus thinking is an act of
Man & Man an
act of God, and
God an act of Fear and Fear?—
Fear grows from
Thought,
(think not.)