Insecurity Is Not Just A State Of

The Harp Is An Insipid Instrument--no Good For Dancing, Feasting, Or Marching, Only For Sitting Primly In A Parlor Or On A Cloud.

A Sentimental Aphorism Is Even More A Surprise Than A Hard- Boiled Sonnet.

Every Few Years Something New Breaks Into The Circle Of My Thoughts.

My Mother Wanted To Shrink From My Clinging, But Did Not.

The Lyric Deals With Love And Sorrow, The Aphorism With Contradiction And Deceit.