There Is No Song To Your Singing.

The Sea Speaks A Language Polite People Never Repeat. It Is A Colossal Scavenger Slang And Has No Respect.

The Fog Comes On Little Cat Feet. It Sits Looking Over The Harbor And City On Silent Haunches And Then Moves On.

I Have Written Some Poetry That I Don't Understand Myself.

In Democracy Both A Deep Reverence And A Sense Of The Comic Are Requisite.

There Is A Warning Love Sends And The Cost Of It Is Never Written Till Long Afterward.