Poetry Is A Phantom Script Telling How

In These Times You Have To Be An Optimist To Open Your Eyes When You Awake In The Morning.

A Liar Goes In Fine Clothes, A Liar Goes In Rags, A Liar Is A Liar, Clothes Or No Clothes.

I Wrote Poems In My Corner Of The Brooks Street Station. I Sent Them To Two Editors Who Rejected Them Right Off. I Read Those Letters Of Rejection Years Later And I Agreed With Those Editors.

Poetry Is The Synthesis Of Hyacinths And Biscuits.

The Marvelous Rebellion Of Man At All Signs Reading "keep Off.