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s*l
1
Part i
THE
MESSAGE
My heart trembles like a poor leaf.
The planets whirl in my dreams.
The stars press against my window.
I rotate in my sleep.
My bed is a warm planet.
-Marvin Mercer
P.S. 153, Fifth Grade, Harlem
New York City, N.Y. (1981)
CHAPTER 1
Transcendental
Numbers
Little fly,
Thy summer's play
My thoughtless hand
Has brushed away.
Am not I
A fly like thee?
Or art not thou
A man like me?
For I dance
And drink and sing,
Till some blind hand
Shall brush my wing.
-William Blake
Songs of Exp
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