Ucross

Under its leaf he watched through peacocktwittering lashes the southing sun. I am caught in this burning scene. Pan's hour, the faunal noon. Among gumheavy serpentplants, milkoozing fruits, where on the tawny waters leaves lie wide. Pain is far.

--Joyce (Ulysses)

Something that you feel will find its own form.

--Kerouac ("belief and technique for modern prose")