If One Is A Greyhound, Why Try

Our Hearts Seemed Safe In Our Breasts And Sang To The Light The Marrow In The Bone We Dreamed Was Safe. . . The Blood In The Veins, The Sap In The Tree Were Springs Of Deity.

I'm Afraid I'm Being An Awful Nuisance.

I May Say That I Think Greed About Poetry Is The Only Permissible Greed - It Is, Indeed, Unavoidable.

I'm Not The Man To Baulk At A Low Smell, I'm Not The Man To Insist On Asphodel. This Sounds Like A He-fellow, Don't You Think? It Sounds Like That. I Belch, I Bawl, I Drink.

The Great Sins And Fires Break Out Of Me Like The Terrible Leaves From The Bough In The Violent Spring. I Am A Walking Fire, I Am All Leaves.