Love Is The First Lie; Wisdom The

New York Rose Out Of The Water Like A Great Wave That Found It Impossible To Return Again And So Remained There In Horror, Peering Out Of The Million Windows Man Had Caged It With.

I'm A Fart In A Gale Of Wind, A Humble Violet Under A Cow Pat.

Sleep Demands Of Us A Guilty Immunity.

When Autumn Shadows Throw Their Patterns Across The Land, They Are Not The Images Of Fragile, Dying Leaves, Not The Bared Arms Of Lofty Elms, Not Shadows Of A Fading Summer; But Swinging Shapes As Of Books Upon A Strap, Of Round And Square Boxes Held Under An Arm, Of Hurrying Little People Heading Towards The Nearest School.

Youth Is Cause, Effect Is Age; So With The Thickening Of The Neck We Get Data.