chapter  2
15 Pages

The Approach of War

I am the man who looked for peace and found My own eyes barbed. I am the man who groped for words and found An arrow in my hand. I am the builder whose firm walls surround A slipping land. When I grow sick or mad Mock me not nor chain me: When I reach for the wind Cast me not down: Though my face is a burnt book And a wasted town.(7)

Enter the dream house, brothers and sisters, leaving

womb-deep sleep?