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To Staten Island by ferry - cold, windy, white world. debates when I was in the grip of marine romanticism 3 yrs. ago in Kauai. Then to the Mod. Art Museum for Dali & Miro. Enuf sed. Dali [[strikethrough]] fasci [[[/strikethrough]] communicates, Miro fascinates. Mobiles, & Van Gogh's Starry Nite again, & Rousseau's Sleeping Gypsy. 11/30. Yesterday - a ride to the Hudson Palisades with Myrtle, Kimi, Pierre. A long walk in late autumn. Mist in the woods, & dark bare trees, and magical yellow grasses, as fine as anything I have ever seen. Cold air & leaves crunchy underfoot. - And I am about finished with my latest oil based on a sketch of Hamoa. 12/4 re Hamoa - I find myself a bit too critical for my own good in painting. I do not [[end page]] [[start page] seem to be able to express myself freely, without restraint, without fear. 12/4. To the Bowery where I walked alone under the El. The men: the most unfortunate, the oppressed, the ones blighted by our economic society. Then tonight: I wept as I read Hart Crane's "And yet this great wink of eternity"- "salute the crocus lustre of the stars-" -Columbia U. Library. It was in a book by Drew: Directions in Modern Poetry (?)- [[strikethrough]] It [[/strikethrough]] I [[strikethrough]] felt [[/strikethrough]] thought, what the hell have I accomplished these 2 months in N.Y. This [[strikethrough]] [[?Host]] form [[/strikethrough]] voyages sense of grandeur in this world is the greatest thing I have felt - but what have I done with it? Be done with fears: work, work, work!