I Am Hard To Disgust, But A

There Is A Great Amount Of Poetry In Unconscious Fastidiousness.

Beauty Is Everlasting And Dust Is For A Time.

What I Write Could Only Be Called Poetry Because There Is No Other Category To Put It.

What Is There In Being Able To Say That One Has Dominated The Stream In An Attitude Of Self-defense; In Proving That One Has Had The Experience Of Carrying A Stick?

We Prove, We Do Not Explain, Our Birth.