The Public Takes From A Writer, Or

I Always Started A Job With The Feeling That I'd Soon Quit Or Be Fired, And This Gave Ma A Relaxex Manner That Was Mistaken For Intelligence Or Some Secret Power.

I Have Seen Too Many Men Wilt And Go Silly Under A Little Light, And Then They Continue To Write And Get Published, Turning Out Pure Crap Under A Name That Has Become A Bad Habit. The Next Poem Is All That Counts. You Can't Stand On Past Poems.

I'm Going, She Said. I Love You But You're Crazy, You're Doomed.

I Thought You Were Sane," I Said, "but You're Just As Crazy As The Rest Of Them.

We Waste Days Like Mad Blackbirds And Pray For Alcoholic Nightsour Silk-sick Human Smiles Wrap Around Us Like Somebody Else's Confetti