Everybody's Serious But Me.

The Fact To Which We Have Got To Cling, As To A Lifebelt, Is That It Is Possible To Be A Normal Decent Person And Yet Be Fully Alive.

Naked In Solitary Prison Cell He Looks Down At A Hard-on.

Scientist Alone Is True Poet He Gives Us The Moon He Promises The Stars He'll Make Us A New Universe If It Comes To That.

What Peaches And What Penumbras! Whole Families Shopping At Night! Aisles Full Of Husbands! Wives In The Avocados, Babies In The Tomatoes!--and You, Garcia Lorca, What Were You Doing Down By The Watermelons?

Unholy Battered Old Thing You Were, My Sunflower O My Soul, I Loved You Then!