... Up telephone poles, Which rear, half out of leavage. As though they would shriek. Like things smothered by their own. Green, mindless, unkillable ghosts. In Georgia, the legend says. That you must close your windows. At night to keep it out of the house. The glass is tinged with green, even so, As the tendrils crawl over the fields. The night the Kudzu has. Your pasture, you sleep like the dead. Silence has grown oriental. And you cannot step upon the ground... ALL: Kudzu by James Dickey
James DickeyAbout author
- Author's profession: Novelist
- Nationality: american
- Born: February 2, 1923
- Died: January 19, 1997
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Of the eternal questions, nothing else: is there a God, is there immortality? And those who do not believe in God will talk of socialism or anarchy, of the transformation of all humanity on a new pattern, which all comes to the same thing, they're the same questions turned inside out.
Fyodor Dostoevsky