What Makes The Engine Go? Desire, Desire,

In Every House Of Marriage There's Room For An Interpreter.

When They Shall Paint Our Sockets Gray And Light Us Like A Stinking Fuse, Remember That We Once Could Say, Yesterday We Had A World To Lose.

I Have Walked Through Many Lives, Some Of Them My Own, And I Am Not Who I Was, Though Some Principle Of Being Abides, From Which I Struggle Not To Stray.

Deftly They Opened The Brain Of A Child, And It Was Full Of Flying Dreams.

A Poem Has Secrets That The Poet Knows Nothing Of.