I've always liked "the World, the Worldless" by William Bronk. I've gotten many other books by him, but I've remained attached to the first one. Recently I bought a hardbound copy at Granary Books, which happened to belong to George Economou, who wrote his name on the first page. My favorite poem in the book is the last one:

THE OUTCRY

What I want to do is shout. Happiness? No.
Outrage. No. what I want to do is shout
because we were all wrong, because the point
was not the point, because the world, or what
we took for the world, is breaking, breaking. We were wrong
and are not right. Break! Break! We are here!
What I want to do is shout! Break! Shout!
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