It Doesn't Matter If Prince Charles Falls

The Role Of The Poet Is Almost Nothing...drearily Nothing. And When He Steps Outside Of His Boots And Tries To Get Tough As Our Dear Ezra [pound] Did, He Will Get His Pink Little Ass Slapped.

Hell, I'd Even Failed With Women. Three Wives. Nothing Really Wrong Each Time. It All Got Destroyed By Petty Bickering. Railing About Nothing. Getting Pissed-off Over Anything And Everything. Day By Day, Year By Year, Grinding. Instead Of Helping Each Other You Just Sliced Away, Picked At This Or That. Goading. Endless Goading. It Became A Cheap Contest. And Once You Got Into It, It Became Habitual. You Couldn't Seem To Get Out. You Almost Didn't Want To Get Out. And Then You Did Get Out. All The Way.

For A Man Of 55 Who Didn't Get Laid Until He Was 23 And Not Very Often Until He Was 50 I Think That I Should Stay Listed Via Pacific Telephone Until I Get As Much As The Average Man Has Had

We Sat There Smoking Cigarettes At 5 In The Morning.

Style Is The Answer To Everything. A Fresh Way To Approach A Dull Or Dangerous Thing