Life Has A Practice Of Living You,

Deprivation Is For Me What Daffodils Were For Wordsworth.

Life Is First Boredom, Then Fear. Whether Or Not We Use It, It Goes, And Leaves What Something Hidden From Us Chose, And Age, And Then The Only End Of Age.

I Am Awakened Each Dawn Increasingly To Fear.

I Didn't Choose Poetry: Poetry Chose Me.

Here Is An Unfenced Existance