I Like Poems You Can Tack All

Silly Girls Your Heads Full Of Boys

I Tried Each Thing, Only Some Were Immortal And Free.

Part Of The Strength Of Pollock And Rothko's Art, In Fact, Is This Doubt As To Whether Art May Be There At All.

Therefore Bivouac We On This Great, Blond Highway, Unimpeded By Veiled Scruples, Worn Conundrums. Morning Is Impermanent. Grab Sex Things, Swing Up Over The Horizon Like A Boy On A Fishing Expedition.

How Many People Came And Stayed A Certain Time, Uttered Light Or Dark Speech That Became Part Of You Like Light Behind Windblown Fog And Sand Filtered And Influenced By It, Until No Part Remains That Is Surely You.