I walk along the vaulting cliffs,
My mind is open, a clear horizon,
In passing breeze, I smell her hair,
I must get home, dark clouds arriving.

What’s the best thing in the world?
June-rose, by May-dew impearled;
Sweet south-wind, that means no rain;
Truth, not cruel to a friend;
Pleasure, not in haste to end;
Beauty, not self-decked and curled
Till its pride is over-plain;
Light, that never makes you wink;
Memory, that gives no pain;
Love, when, so, you’re loved again.
What’s the best thing in the world?
—Something out of it, I think.

They say that God lives very high;
  But if you look above the pines
You cannot see our God; and why?

And if you dig down in the mines,
  You never see Him in the gold,
Though from Him all that’s glory shines.

God is so good, He wears a fold
  Of heaven and earth across His face,
Like secrets kept, for love, untold.

But still I feel that His embrace
  Slides down by thrills, through all things made,
Through sight and sound of every place;

As if my tender mother laid
  On my shut lids her kisses’ pressure,
Half waking me at night, and said,
  “Who kissed you through the dark, dear guesser?”

All armies are the same
Publicity is fame
Artillery makes the same old noise
Valor is an attribute of boys
Old soldiers all have tired eyes
All soldiers hear the same old lies
Dead bodies always have drawn flies

I never got to hold you,
and I never saw your face.
I didn't even know you were
inside me, until it was much
too late. But darling never fear,
for I once heard it said, that
a love like what I have
for you, is never truly dead.

Sleep soundly my dear child,
wherever you may be. If there
is a heaven high above us, or
a nonexistent sea. I live my life quite
differently, ever since you left. I
like to think I'd make you proud my
love, if you followed in my steps.
For you see I'm training, so that
someday I'll be strong. Strong, and ready,
and proud, to hold someone, much
like you, in my arms.

The sea is a disaster of churning
LCU's buck like horses
From behind is heard the guns of destroyers
run aground in the shallow channel
Sixteen men shiver though the air is humid
Fifteen men know
they die today
Guns erupt from the cliffside
geysers of flame and water erupt all around
Craft is tossed
moving at snail speed
As death slowly approaches
Tongues of flame flash from pillboxs
the first man falls
Useless helmet fatally flawed
The boy begins to giggle
he tries to light a cigarette
his thumb refuses to flip the wheel
The ringing ping of ricochets off the hull
a rhythm of massacre
tears of a soldier singing his deathknell
Bow meets beach
gate goes down
Into the surf the soldiers leap
Clothing and gear turns to wet suits of armor
that do not protect from anything
Everything is screaming
****** bits blasted back into the sea
from ruptured flamethrower
Waves crash crimson and ******
pink foam forms
sickly **** of slaughter
Men cut down like wheat
the horror not complete
until Kraiss and Goth
order retreat
By then
three thousand men
lie dead in the waters
To the victor the spoils
blood and death like no other
The end begins
on the red shore of Omaha.