War is Kind & Other Lines/A little ink more or less!

A little ink more or less!

I surely can't matter?

Even the sky and the opulent sea,

The plains and the hills, aloof,

Hear the uproar of all these books.

But it is only a little ink more or less.

What?

You define me God with these trinkets?

Can my misery meal on an ordered walking

Of surpliced numskulls?

And a fanfare of lights?

Or even upon the measured pulpitings

Of the familiar false and true?

Is this God?

Where, then, is hell?

Show me some bastard mushroom

Sprung from a pollution of blood.

It is better.

Where is God?