The Damage Of Teaching: The

The Stones Were Sharp, The Wind Came At My Back; Walking Along The Highway, Mincing Like A Cat.

I Always Felt Mean, Jogging Back Over The Logging Road,as If I Had Broken The Natural Order Of Things In That Swampland;disturbed Some Rhythm, Old And Of Vast Importance,by Pulling Off Flesh From The Living Planet;as If I Had Committed, Against The Whole Scheme Of Life, A Desecration.

My Truths Are All Foreknown,this Anguish Self-revealed.i'm Naked To The Bone,with Nakedness My Shield.

The Damage Of Teaching: The Constant Contact With The Undeveloped.

I Wish I Could Find An Event That Meant As Much As Simple Seeing.