“And I was alive in the blizzard of the blossoming pear, / Myself I stood in the storm of the bird-cherry tree. / It was all leaflife and starshower unerring, self-shattering power, / And it was all aimed at me.
What is this dire delight flowering fleeing always earth? / What is being? What is truth?
Blossoms rupture and rapture the air, / All hover and hammer, / Time intensified and time intolerable, sweetness raveling rot. / It is now. It is not.”