Such possessions as gore me pontificate from corners. br I am no longer solid but a speech of butterflies. br How it spills, when all is said and done: br It is hard to see virtue in the cold matter br Staining the floor - frills, cups, leaves, arquebuses, br Bile - the gross litters of meaning - the new king br Knitting up this mess in his brainless sinews, br Mere presence the answer to everything, the golden br Halo of a new dawn impressing all the peasants.