Mad Ireland Hurt You Into Poetry.

Without Art, We Should Have No Notion Of The Sacred; Without Science, We Should Always Worship False Gods.

We Honor Founders Of These Starving Cities, Whose Honor Is The Image Of Our Sorrow.

Every Poet Has His Dream Reader: Mine Keeps A Look Out For Curious Prosodic Fauna Like Bacchics And Choriambs.

Lay Your Sleeping Head, My Love, Human On My Faithless Arm.

A Poem Is A Verbal Artifact Which Must Be As Skillfully And Solidly Constructed As A Table Or A Motorcycle.