All The Fun Is In How You

The Rain To The Wind Said, You Push And I'll Pelt.' They So Smote The Garden Bed That The Flowers Actually Knelt, And Lay Lodged--though Not Dead. I Know How The Flowers Felt.

Possessing What We Still Were Unpossessed By, Possessed By What We Now No More Possessed.

Meditate Nothing. Learn To Contemplate. Contemplate Glory. There Will Be A Light. Contemplate Truth Until It Burns Your Eyes Out.

The Snake Stood Up For Evil In The Garden.

When Clever People Ask Me Where I Get A Poem, I Despair.