I sing the bio electric;
The credits of poems I’ve published engirth me, and I engirth them;
They will not let me forget till I publish more, enlengthen them,
And discorrupt them, and charge them full with the charge of the Soul.
Was it doubted that those who corrupt their own bios conceal themselves;
And if those who forget their awards are as bad as they who defile the dead?
And if these credits do not do as much as the Soul?
And if the bio were not the Soul, what is the Soul?