We Tend To Put Poems Into Factions.

We Tend To Put Poems Into Factions. And It Restricts Our Reading.

How Sociable The Garden Was. We Ate And Talked In Given Light. The Children Put Their Toys To Grass All The Warm Wakeful August Night.

Thus For Each Blunt-faced Ignorant One The Great Grey Rigid Uniform Combined Safety With Virtue Of The Sun. Thus Concepts Linked Like Chainmail In The Mind.

We Control The Content Of Our Dreams.

I Don't Think Of Sex As A Self-destructive Impulse.