My Comic Perspective

When a boy I was wrenched in a gin hidden in a garden of roses: thus am I lame. Later was slugged on the head by the Father of Lies--the Ideal: But I laughed and hallooed, “Come, To-morrow!” I have been bushwhacked by women, gnawed to the bone by a great ancient lust: All things I touched turned slime-green and black-hideous thoughts played ’round my night-pillow like rats ’round the new-dead: But I laughed and hallooed, “Come, To-morrow!” I used to say, “God?--why, that is myself!” The world took me seriously, set me up for a savior: But I laughed, doffed aureole, and hallooed, “Come, To-morrow!” Then I donned horns and tail and cried, “Behold! I am Lucifer!” So they stoned me till I looked like a shambles: But I laughed and hallooed, “Come, To-morrow!” I bought from a drab a filthy old handkerchief, exhibited it as the Veil of Isis. The popes of philosophy bowed down to me and mumbled “Eureka!” But I laughed (for I knew) and hallooed, “Come, To-morrow!”

Well, here am I now, a butt-end, awaiting translation. The world I have found a small box with endless false bottoms; I have come to the tomb, a little clay box which, too, is false bottomed: I call into it, laugh and halloo, “Come, TO-MORROW!”