The Birds Of Night Peck At The

It Was At That Age That Poetry Came In Search Of Me.

Today Is Today, And Yesterday Is Gone. There Is No Doubt.

When Everything Seems To Be Set To Show Me Off As Intelligent, The Fool I Always Keep Hidden Takes Over All That I Say.

I Want To Do To You What Spring Does With The Cherry Trees.

The Darkness Of A Day Elapsed, Of A Day Nourished With Our Sad Blood.