I Shall Also Take You Forth And

The World Rolls Under The Long Thrust Of His Heel. Over The Cage Floor The Horizons Come.

He Was His Own Leftover, The Spat-out Scrag. He Was What His Brain Could Make Nothing Of.

And As If Reporting Some Felony To The Police They Let You Know You Were Not John Donne.

...imagine What You Are Writing About. See It And Live It. Do Not Think It Up Laboriously, As If You Were Working Out Mental Arithmetic. Just Look At It, Touch It, Smell It, Listen To It, Turn Yourself Into It. When You Do This, The Words Look After Themselves, Like Magic.

It Took The Whole Of Creation To Produce My Foot, My Each Feather: Now I Hold Creation In My Foot. Or Fly Up, And Revolve It All Slowly - I Kill Where I Please Because It Is All Mine. There Is No Sophistry In My Body: My Manners Are Tearing Off Heads - The Allotment Of Death.