Books, Cats, Life Is Good.

A Small And Sinister Snow Seems To Be Coming Down Relentlessly At Present. The Radio Says It Is Eventually Going To Be Sleet And Rain, But I Don't Think So; I Think It Is Just Going To Go On And On, Coming Down, Until The Whole World...etc. It Has That Look.

The World May Think It Idiotic, Nor Care At All We're Symbiotic, But I Will Say At Once And Twice: I Find It Nice. I Find It Nice.

The Suicide, As She Is Falling, Illuminated By The Moon, Regrets Her Act, And Finds Appalling The Thought She Will Be Dead So Soon.

Z Is For Zillah Who Drank Too Much Gin.

To Take My Work Seriously Would Be The Height Of Folly.