内容简介：
Recently I ran into a poetry book. It had several authors names on it. It cost a penny not ready to be given up. It was rich in brutality. It was as common as children and dirt. It thrilled its reader's because its readers were criminals. The edition even included maps to keep the inferior races from overshooting their islands. And printed on paper so fine its movement through whispers did cleanse the tears of the weak of heart. Let me take from this poetry, its opening -- In the beginning - But that would be plagiarism. Let us caution such theft, and make for ourselves - poetry - made of true Life, Death, and Love -- In the end, Existence-in-play is the world The world divides between the poem and disaster The privilege of disaster is oblivion: the vanishment of humanity the abyss of the void The privilege of man is Poetry wherein heart's hunger experiments with life The balance of life is called Fate Fate is only fate that avoids the disequilibria of love For Love experiments with Life What Love represents is Sense What Sense represents is poetry in humankind For if there is no thing poetic of man, then whether a proposition has sense, or has none, remains irrelevant Without poetry, the power of Irrelevant propositions can kill