The Silken Tent The forest isn’t just a stand of lumber, for there lurk timid ancient umbrae. Its wildlife cannot be made livestock and remain, cornered in a wooden block. The river’s more than the power surge, that satisfies the demiurge. You or I Who will raise the necessary Hue and cry Why? Else this earth, by account of its blind actuaries Must die THIS sky from heavenward this silken tent Upon the over-kempt dismaying sward unstayed and limp