No one returns an All-American from here; the first law you must learn is breathe, the second, walk; if the language cools enough to speak, then you swear allegiance, as if you could care, as if a country could naturalize such aliens. Which of you knows this freefall of the mind, the nausea of the weightless man, lost out of eclipse, the burning of the Word become its full and Pentecostal sun, and worst, the realizing as you lose profane faith in mere reality, how many, and deep, are the levels of sleep.