We Are All Old-timers, Each Of Us

In The End, Every Hypochondriac Is His Own Prophet.

Pity The Planet, All Joy Gone From This Sweet Volcanic Cone

The Lord Survives The Rainbow Of His Will.

Sometimes Nothing Is So Solid To Me As Writing - I Suppose That's What A Vocation Means - At Times A Torment, A Bad Conscience, But All In All, Purpose And Direction.

Most Poetry Is Very Formal, But When A Modern Poet Is Formal He Gets More Attention For It Than Old Poets Did.