I Wake To Sleep, And Take My

The Poet: Would Rather Eat A Heart Than A Hambone.

I Can't Go On Flying Apart Just For Those Who Want The Benefit Of A Few Verbal Kicks. My God, Do You Know What Poems Like That Cost? They're Not Written Vicariously: They Come Out Of Actual Suffering, Real Madness.

In A Dark Time, The Mind Begins To See.

Love Begets Love. This Torment Is My Joy.

The Light Comes Brighter From The East; The Cawof Restive Crows Is Sharper On The Ear.