My Definition Of Poetry (if I Were

Ants Are A Curious Race

A Voice Said, Look Me In The Stars And Tell Me Truly, Men Of Earth, If All The Soul-and-body Scars Were Not Too Much To Pay For Birth.

All Thought Is A Feat Of Association; Having What's In Front Of You Bring Up Something In Your Mind That You Almost Didn't Know You Knew

When I See Birches Bend To Left And Right... I Like To Think Some Boy's Been Swinging Them.

Not Yesterday I Learned To Know The Love Of Bare November Days Before The Coming Of The Snow.