“Vertiginous, violet-they scroll across the sky, words with wings VVV, whether wrens or angels one cannot determine, perhaps an alternate universe fusion of both, up down, high, low-dizzy, still; at peace, at war: redemption dreams arise from the clay: soul's peace, as the bird in the bough its little eye closes slowly: all is chance, they say, indeed-save this, indisputably, O' Neill's Art's gentle triumph.” -  Pat McCabe

“Vertiginous, violet-they scroll across the sky, words with wings VVV, whether wrens or angels one cannot determine, perhaps an alternate universe fusion of both, up down, high, low-dizzy, still; at peace, at war: redemption dreams arise from the clay: soul's peace, as the bird in the bough its little eye closes slowly: all is chance, they say, indeed-save this, indisputably, O' Neill's Art's gentle triumph.” -  Pat McCabe

“Vertiginous, violet-they scroll across the sky, words with wings VVV, whether wrens or angels one cannot determine, perhaps an alternate universe fusion of both, up down, high, low-dizzy, still; at peace, at war: redemption dreams arise from the clay: soul's peace, as the bird in the bough its little eye closes slowly: all is chance, they say, indeed-save this, indisputably, O' Neill's Art's gentle triumph.” -  Pat McCabe

“Vertiginous, violet-they scroll across the sky, words with wings VVV, whether wrens or angels one cannot determine, perhaps an alternate universe fusion of both, up down, high, low-dizzy, still; at peace, at war: redemption dreams arise from the clay: soul's peace, as the bird in the bough its little eye closes slowly: all is chance, they say, indeed-save this, indisputably, O' Neill's Art's gentle triumph.” -  Pat McCabe

“Vertiginous, violet-they scroll across the sky, words with wings VVV, whether wrens or angels one cannot determine, perhaps an alternate universe fusion of both, up down, high, low-dizzy, still; at peace, at war: redemption dreams arise from the clay: soul's peace, as the bird in the bough its little eye closes slowly: all is chance, they say, indeed-save this, indisputably, O' Neill's Art's gentle triumph.” -  Pat McCabe

“Vertiginous, violet-they scroll across the sky, words with wings VVV, whether wrens or angels one cannot determine, perhaps an alternate universe fusion of both, up down, high, low-dizzy, still; at peace, at war: redemption dreams arise from the clay: soul's peace, as the bird in the bough its little eye closes slowly: all is chance, they say, indeed-save this, indisputably, O' Neill's Art's gentle triumph.” -  Pat McCabe

“Vertiginous, violet-they scroll across the sky, words with wings VVV, whether wrens or angels one cannot determine, perhaps an alternate universe fusion of both, up down, high, low-dizzy, still; at peace, at war: redemption dreams arise from the clay: soul's peace, as the bird in the bough its little eye closes slowly: all is chance, they say, indeed-save this, indisputably, O' Neill's Art's gentle triumph.” -  Pat McCabe

“Vertiginous, violet-they scroll across the sky, words with wings VVV, whether wrens or angels one cannot determine, perhaps an alternate universe fusion of both, up down, high, low-dizzy, still; at peace, at war: redemption dreams arise from the clay: soul's peace, as the bird in the bough its little eye closes slowly: all is chance, they say, indeed-save this, indisputably, O' Neill's Art's gentle triumph.” -  Pat McCabe

“Vertiginous, violet-they scroll across the sky, words with wings VVV, whether wrens or angels one cannot determine, perhaps an alternate universe fusion of both, up down, high, low-dizzy, still; at peace, at war: redemption dreams arise from the clay: soul's peace, as the bird in the bough its little eye closes slowly: all is chance, they say, indeed-save this, indisputably, O' Neill's Art's gentle triumph.” -  Pat McCabe

“Vertiginous, violet-they scroll across the sky, words with wings VVV, whether wrens or angels one cannot determine, perhaps an alternate universe fusion of both, up down, high, low-dizzy, still; at peace, at war: redemption dreams arise from the clay: soul's peace, as the bird in the bough its little eye closes slowly: all is chance, they say, indeed-save this, indisputably, O' Neill's Art's gentle triumph.” -  Pat McCabe