I Would Like To Bury All The

And What Of The Dead? They Lie Without Shoes In The Stone Boats. They Are More Like Stone Than The Sea Would Be If It Stopped. They Refuse To Be Blessed, Throat, Eye And Knucklebone.

I Said, The Poets Are There I Hear Them Singing And Lying Around Their Round Table And Around Me Still.

The Trouble With Therapy Is That It Makes Life Go Backwards.

I Am In My Own Mind. I Am Locked In The Wrong House.

Writers Are Such Phonies: They Sometimes Have Wise Insights But They Don't Live By Them At All. That's What Writers Are Like...you Think They Know Something, But Usually They Are Just Messes.