You, the woman; I, the man; this, the world: And each is the work of all. - Kenneth Patchen

You, the village; I, the stranger; this, the road: And each is the work of all.<p> Then, not that man do more, or stop pity; but that he be Wider in living; that all his cities fly a clean flag... We have been alone too long, love; it is terribly late For the pierced feet on the water and we must not die now.

You, the sought for; I, the seeker; this, the search: And each is the mission of all.<p> For greatness is only the drayhorse that coaxes The built cart out; and where we go is reason. But genius is an enormous littleness, a trickling Of heart that covers alike the hare and the hunter.

The animal I wanted
Couldn't get into the world...
I can hear it crying
When I sit like this away from life.