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There is no static in youth. There are things all around one. The present is present ; things without association, things as things; physical things like buildings, planes, roads, bridges, houses, streetlights. Things. Objects. Common things. And then they worm through necessity, imagination, or, even desire. One object is in relation to an empty, littered lot and another in relation to hills filled with trees and birds. One sees through the eye, smells through the nose. But there is more. Yet there is another inner fluid that comes up and meets the things with its imperative and the things change. They can wither and die. Or, they can live forever.

Pain and gentleness
Under the eyes of the
Wayward Girl-
lost in what all lose
prominent in her awareness
ah, where have you come from-
Where?

It is ironic that in a town full of intellectuals the intellect will suddenly appear as grinding away with no pretense to the truth. It needs a conscience which says, "ah, you are only after power, enthralled by the obligatory anti-truths and anti-life sentiments of the day."