to me I see Oliver's prose far reaching from when he was on the Earth. yet from a spiritual sense yearning to be as else where as I. at home on the earth and seeking a greater mobility than the language of human can provide.
The Last Leaf
I saw him once before, As he passed by the door, And again The pavement stones resound, As he totters o'er the ground With his cane.
They say that in his prime, Ere the pruning-knife of Time