In a letter to Emil
Henry Miller once
A few feet of earth for himself.
With a big single room
Built upon it.
Furnished with a stove
A water basin.
And a hugh desk with a bookcase
Near by and an easel.
He thought there he might have solitude
While the outside world may,
in sufficient fashion,
float in his life, through, out again.
And so I too wonder.
When God has created the new heaven
And the new earth.
Might I too have such a house as Miller?
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