I AM BEING ROWED THROUGH PARADISE ON A RIVER OF HELL:     Exquisite ghost, it is night. The paddle is a heart, it breaks the porcelain waves: It is still night.The paddle is a lotus: I am rowed-as it withers-toward the breeze which is soft as            if it had pity on me...... The hope is dat someday the war they were fighting & the reasons for its existence wud disappear like footsteps on winter snow in my childhood.