This gray rock, standing tall
On the headland, where the sea-wind
Lets no tree grow,
Earthquake-proved, and signatured
By ages of storms: on its peak
A falcon has perched.
I think, here is your emblem
To hang in the future sky;
Not the cross, not the hive,
But this; bright power, dark peace;-- from Rock and Hawk by Robinson Jeffers.
Fierce consciousness joined with final
I like to think-- from All Watched Over By Machines of Loving Grace by Richard Brautigan.
(right now, please!)
of a cybernetic forest
filled with pines and electronics
where deer stroll peacefully
as if they were flowers
with spinning blossoms.
Both quoted in After the Goldrush - the Poetry of California presented by Dana Gioia.