And it came to pass on the morrow Look around your lonely America, the merry-go-round carnival deaths in the wasteland desolate rows—God bless! Look, I was in that angel city sky silence— that vulgar cold—Monterey— the alleyways—the melting hills— & I was with the plowmen & reapers— visions I saw of California: the Inquisition— the golden gates—Solomon’s pool— divided lines—wings to fly— I’ll die in polluted lands— Adam’s children clung to pennies yet, the Lord smote us equal in all his common glory. Visions! visions! look to me through with a wilderness heart in desolate California visions— look further! I was chasing the blues in Athenian groves—in room 109 swallowed up on a moondust shore sniffing inhaling & drunk & impaling my heart rhythms feeling alone—cold & testifying— look around your lonely America & I’ll find your eyes golden with candle flames in them— with castles in them—ashes buried in them— with crimson sweaters & your laughing silent courageous—laughing gracefully— I was with you in your lonely America, in the dancing voices of California, in the mountains burned with fire— with darkness—clouds—thick darkness.