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A fountain surges from my verse’s house.
Its flowing waters quench the thirst of men—
A fountain from the rock of perfect rhyme,
With waters cold to please the yearning man—
A flow unending…
First having read the book of myths,
and loaded the camera,
and checked the edge of the knife-blade,
I put on
the body-armor of black rubber
the absurd flippers
the grave and awkward mask.
I am…