Worms Are The Words But Joy's The

Every Artist's Strictly Illimitable Country Is Himself. An Artist Who Plays That Country False Has Committed Suicide; And Even A Good Lawyer Cannot Kill The Dead. But A Human Being Who's True To Himself - Whoever Himself May Be - Is Immortal; And All The Atomic Bombs Of All The Antiartists In Spacetime Will Never Civilize Immortality.

The Three Saddest Things Are The Ill Wanting To Be Well, The Poor Wanting To Be Rich, And The Constant Traveler Saying 'anywhere But Here'.

It Takes Three To Make A Child.

In The Street Of The Sky Night Walks Scattering Poems

It Is With Roses And Locomotives (not To Mention Acrobats Spring Electricity Coney Island The 4th Of July The Eyes Of Mice And Niagara Falls) That My Poems Are Competing.