poem not by me
What strange pleasure do they get who'd
wipe whole worlds out,
to end our lives, our
But we have charms against their rage-
must go on saying, "Look
if nobody tried to live this way,
all the work of the world would be in vain."
And now and then a son, a daughter, hears it.
NOw and then a son, a daughter
-Lew Welch "This Book is for Magda"