I was born in the morning of the world,

A stub of a man, this Mohammedan colonel … a projectile shape … a bald head hammered …‘Does he fight or do they put him in a cannon and shoot him at the enemy?’This fly-by-night, this bull-roarer who knows everybody.‘I write forty books, history of Islam, history of Europe, true religion, scientific farming, I am…

Hurtling across the prairie into blue haze and dark airgo fifteen all-steel coaches holding a thousand people.(All the coaches shall be scrap and rust and all the menand women laughing in the diners and sleepers shallpass to ashes.)I ask a man in the smoker where he is going and heanswers: ‘Omaha.’

Night and day I keep singing–humming and thrumming:It is love and war and money; it is the fighting and thetears, the work and want,Death and laughter of men and women passing throughme, carrier of your speech,In the rain and the wet dripping, in the dawn and theshine drying,A copper wire.

A man whose father and mother were IrishRan a goat farm half-way down the mountain;He drove a covered wagon years ago,Understood how to handle a rifle,Shot grouse, buffalo, Indians, in a single year,And now was raising goats around a shanty.Down at the foot of the mountainTwo Japanese families had flower farms.A man and woman were…

Regrets fly kites in your eyes.

This is a bronze memorial of a famous generalRiding horseback with a flag and a sword and a revolveron him.I want to smash the whole thing into a pile of junk to behauled away to the scrap yard.I put it straight to you,After the farmer, the miner, the shop man, the factoryhand, the fireman and…