The Figure A Poem Makes. It Begins

The Brain Is A Wonderful Organ; It Starts Working The Moment You Get Up In The Morning And Does Not Stop Until You Get Into The Office.

They Would Not Find Me Changed From Him They Knew - Only More Sure Of All I Thought Was True.

I'm Always Saying Something That's Just The Edge Of Something More.

He Thought That I Was After Him For A Feather--- The White One In His Tail: Like One Who Takes Everything Said As Personal To Himself.

A Poem Begins With A Lump In The Throat