Below all silken soil-slip, all crinkled earth-crust, Far deeper than ocean, past rock that against rock grieves, There at the globe's deepest dark and visceral lust, Can you hear the groan-swish of magma as it churns and heaves?

Being There: Poetry 1977-1980, Youth Truth-Seeker, Half-Naked, at Night, Running Down Beach South, of San Francisco