It's A Funny Thing That When A

I Cut My Own Hair. I Got Sick Of Barbers Because They Talk Too Much. And Too Much Of Their Talk Was About My Hair Coming Out.

Writing A Poem Is Discovering.

Live And Let Live, Believe And Let Believe. 'twas Said The Lesser Gods Were Only Traits Of The One Awful God. Just So The Saints Are God's White Light Refracted Into Colors.

Love At The Lips Was Touch As Sweet As I Could Bear; And Once That Seemed Too Much; I Lived On Air.

Summoning Artists To Participate In The August Occasions Of The State Seems Something Artists Ought To Celebrate. Today Is For My Cause A Day Of Days.