Dead, Hung Up Indoors, The Kingfisher Will

You Don't Help People In Your Poems. I've Been Trying To Help People All My Life - That's My Trouble

Of Rhythm Is Image / Of Image Is Knowing / Of Knowing There Is / A Construct

Knowledge Is The Harvest Of Attention

My Life Has Been Given Its Orders: The Seasons Seize The Soul And The Body, And Make Mock Of Any Dispersed Effort. The Hour Of Death Is The Only Trespass

I'm One Of The Cliches That Has Grown Up.