If Youth Is A Defect, It Is

We Feel The Machine Slipping From Our Hands As If Someone Else Were Steering; If We See Light At The End Of The Tunnel, It's The Light Of The Oncoming Train.

But Sometimes Everything I Write With The Threadbare Art Of My Eye Seems A Snapshot

I'm Sure That Writing Isn't A Craft, That Is, Something For Which You Learn The Skills And Go On Turning Out. It Must Come From Some Deep Impulse, Deep Inspiration. That Can't Be Taught, It Can't Be What You Use In Teaching.

Their Monument Sticks Like A Fishbone In The City's Throat.

In The End, Every Hypochondriac Is His Own Prophet.