There Seeps From Heavily Jowled Or Hawk-like

World Is Crazier And More Of It Than We Think, Incorrigibly Plural. I Peel And Portion A Tangerine And Spit The Pips And Feel The Drunkenness Of Things Being Various.

All That I Would Like To Be Is Human, Having A Share In A Civilized, Articulate And Well-adjusted Community Where The Mind Is Given Its Due But The Body Is Not Distrusted

Time Was Away And Somewhere Else, There Were Two Glasses And Two Chairs And Two People With One Pulse.

I Was The Rector's Son, Born To The Anglican Order, Banned For Ever From The Candles Of The Irish Poor; The Chichesters Knelt In Marble At The End Of A Transept With Ruffs About Their Necks, Their Portion Sure.

And I Envy The Intransigence Of My Own Countrymen Who Shoot To Kill And Never See The Victim's Face Become Their Own Or Find His Motive Sabotage Their Motives.