And Hezekiah, I cannot see! There
are too-harsh terms on this document
right here, and sometimes I am deaf
as well. My mixed-up, crazy world
has a jangling always inside my head.
Here comes the Janus-faced plowman,
he's setting this roadside table again,
All I ever order is buttermilk and toast.
There's a season to be serviced in the
wake-up to every day : some days it's
green, and others white-blind with snow.
I can't turn. I don't know which way to
go. If there's a heaven-help-us somewhere,
it better be for me.