I Feel That Poetry Is Going On

The Soul Establishes Itself. But How Far Can It Swim Out Through The Eyes And Still Return Safely To Its Nest?

The Poem Is Sad Because It Wants To Be Yours, And Cannot Be.

The Facts Of History Have Been Too Well Rehearsed.

Once A Happy Old Man One Can Never Change The Core Of Things, And Light Burns You The Harder For It.

Silly Girls Your Heads Full Of Boys