In A Dark Time, The Mind Begins

A Mind Too Active Is No Mind At All.

I Bleed My Bones, Their Marrow To Bestowupon That God Who Knows What I Would Know.

Reason? That Dreary Shed, That Hutch For Grubby Schoolboys.

In A Dark Time, The Mind Begins To See.

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.