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The Temple

To leave the earth was my wish, and no will stayed my rising.

Early, before sun had filled the roads with

Conveying folk to weddings and to murders;

Before men left their selves of sleep, to

In the dark of the world like whipped beasts.

I took no pack.

I had no horse, no staff, no gun.

I got up a little way and something called me,

Saying,'Put your hand in mine.

We will seek God together.'And I answered, 'It is your father who is lost, not mine.'Then the sky filled with tears of blood, and snakes sang.

Kenneth Patchen (December 13, 1911 – January 8, 1972) was an American poet and novelist. He experimented with different forms of writing and inc
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