She Had A Laugh That Hinted It

He Came To This Country Like A Torch On Fire And He Swallowed Air As He Walked Forward And He Gave Out Light

She Is A Woman Of Honour And Smartness Whose Wild Leaves Out Luck, Always Taking Risks, And There Is Something In Her Brow Now, That Only She Can Recognize In A Mirror. Ideal And Idealistic In That Shiny Dark Hair! People Fall In Love With Her. She Is A Woman I Don’t Know Well Enough To Hold In My Wing, If Writers Have Wings, To Harbour For The Rest Of My Life.

Sleep Is A Prison For A Boy Who Has Friends To Meet.

We Are Expanded By Tears, We Are Told, Not Reduced By Them.

A Writer Uses A Pen Instead Of A Scalpel Or Blow Torch.