It's Not True That Life Is One

And Reaching Up My Hand To Try, I Screamed To Feel It Touch The Sky.

You See, I Am A Poet, And Not Quite Right In The Head, Darling. It’s Only That.

Need We Say It Was Not Love, Now That Love Is Perished?

Earth Does Not Understand Her Child, Who From The Loud Gregarious Town Returns, Depleted And Defiled, To The Still Woods, To Fling Him Down.

To Be Grown Up Is To Sit At The Table With People Who Have Died, Who Neither Listen Nor Speak.