from Thomas McGrath, Letter To An Imaginary Friend, Book II

"Ain't no grabirons a man can lay hand to. I tell you it's DARK
DOWN HERE MAN!
        slippery dark
                        can't see
                                    I tell you it's hell--"
We must walk up out of this dark using what charms we have.
Hell's everywhere, this only seems like hell, take my hand,
It is only required to open your eyes--
                                                            see
                                                                there's
The land as it was
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
        Unchanged and changed.
                                                I tell you millions
Are moving.
                Pentagon marchers
                                                Prague May Day locomotives
With flowers in their teeth!
                                        And now the red ball is hammering in—
Spot an empty! Grab an armful of rods!
                                                            I'll take you
In the final direction...
                                    Only: open your eyes...
But it's hard, hard, man
                                    I'm standing here, naked
As a studhorse in a rhubarb patch
                                                    Waiting
                                                                waiting
                                                                    and here--
Around me
                trouble built for small boys and crazy men!
For my purpose (as I keep saying) is nothing less 
Than ...
To elaborate the iconic dynamite of the authentic class struggle 
In other words to change the world
                                                    --Nothing less.
                                                                    It's hard and I'm 
scared ...