| from "1 X 1 [One Times One]": 1: XIV... e.e. cummings... |
| pity this busy monster,manunkind, |
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not. Progress is a comfortable disease: your victim(death and life safely beyond) |
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plays with the bigness of his littleness -electrons deify one razorbiade into a mountainrange;lenses extend |
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unwish through curving wherewhen till unwish returns on its unself. A world of made is not a world of born-pity poor flesh |
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and trees,poor stars and stones,but never this fine specimen of hypermagical |
| ultraomnipotence. We doctors know |
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a hopeless case if-listen:there's a hell of a good universe next door;let's go |
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