I Did Not Know Him, I Knew

Who Wants To Put Together Something That Will Bear Some Relationship To The Vision Or Memory Or Experience Or Story Or Idea Or Dream Or Whatever.

I Was A Late Bloomer. But Anyone Who Blooms At All, Ever, Is Very Lucky.

She'd Crack A Joke Sharp As A Tin Lid Hot From The Teeth Of The Can-opener, And Cackle Her Crack-corn Laugh.

This Creature Of The Poem May Assemble Itself Into A Being With Its Own Centrifugal Force.

I'm Probably So Out Of It At My Age That I Don't Know What People Think.