How does one stand To behold the sublime, To confront die mockers, The mickey mockers And plated pairs? When General Jackson Posed for his statue He knew how one feels. Shall a man go barefoot Blinking and blank? But how does one feel? One grows used to the weather, The landscape and that; And the sublime comes down To the spirit itself, The spirit and space, The empty spirit In a vacant space. What wine does one drink? What bread does one eat?