Death, Vicious Death, Leave A Green Branch

The One Thing Life Has Taught Me Is That Most People Spend Their Lives Bottled Up Inside Their Houses Doing The Things They Hate.

Moon Like A Large Stainedglass Window That Breaks On The Ocean.

The Poem, The Song, The Picture, Is Only Water Drawn From The Well Of The People, And It Should Be Given Back To Them In A Cup Of Beauty So That They May Drink - And In Drinking Understand Themselves.

What Matters Most Has An Ultimate Metallic Quality Of Death. The Chasuble And The Wagon Wheel, The Razor And The Prickly Beards Of Shepherds, The Bare Moon, A Fly, Humid Cupboards, Rubble Piles, The Images Of Saints Covered In Lace, Quicklime, And The Wounding Edges Of The Rooflines And Watchtowers.

The World Is A Shoulder Of Dark Meat (black Flesh Of An Old Mule). And The Light Is On The Other Side.