I End Not Far From My Going

A Poet Never Takes Notes. You Never Take Notes In A Love Affair.

Talking Is A Hydrant In The Yard And Writing Is A Faucet Upstairs In The House. Opening The First Takes The Pressure Off The Second.

For I Have Had Too Much Of Apple-picking:i Am Overtired Of The Great Harvest I Myself Desired.

Forgive Me My Nonsense, As I Also Forgive The Nonsense Of Those That Think They Talk Sense.

It's God - I Recognised Him From Blake's Picture.