The Rest Of My Days I Spend

Goodbye, You Who Are, For Me, The Postmarks Again Of Shattered Towns--xenia, Burnt Cabins, Hornell-- Their Loneliness Given Away In Poems, Only Their Solitude Kept.

The First Step In The Journey Is To Lose Your Way.

The First Step... Shall Be To Lose The Way.

Little Sleep's-head Sprouting Hair In The Moonlight, When I Come Back We Will Go Out Together, We Will Walk Out Together Among, The Ten Thousand Things, Each Scratched Too Late With Such Knowledge, The Wages Of Dying Is Love.

Is There A Mechanism Of Death, That So Mutilates Existence No One, Gets Over It Not Even The Dead?