Oh, No No No, It Was Too

Love Is Not Love That Wounded Bleeds And Bleeding Sullies Slow. Come Death Within My Hands And I Unto My Love Will Go.

Fourteen-year-old, Why Must You Giggle And Dote, Fourteen-year-old, Why Are You Such A Goat? I'm Fourteen Years Old, That Is The Reason, I Giggle And Dote In Season.

This Is The Simplest Of All Thoughts, That Death Must Come When We Call, Although He Is A God.

All Poetry Has To Do Is To Make A Strong Communication. All The Poet Has To Do Is Listen. The Poet Is Not An Important Fellow. There Will Also Be Another Poet.

There Are Moments Of Despair That Come Sometimes, When Night Sets In And A White Fog Presses Against The Windows. Then Our House Changes Its Shape, Rears Up And Becomes A Place Of Despair. Then Fear And Rage Run Simply--and The Thought Of Death As A Friend. This Is The Simplest Of Thoughts, That Death Must Come When We Call, Although He Is A God.