From my last years, last thoughts I here bequeath,
Scatter’d and dropt, in seeds, and wafted to the West,
Through moisture of Ohio, prairie soil of Illinois–through Colorado, California air,
For Time to germinate fully.
The only people for me are the mad ones, the ones who are mad for life, mad for talking, mad for poetry.
From my last years, last thoughts I here bequeath,
Scatter’d and dropt, in seeds, and wafted to the West,
Through moisture of Ohio, prairie soil of Illinois–through Colorado, California air,
For Time to germinate fully.