While I Was Writing I Assumed It

I Really Practiced Hard And Got To A Certain Level Of Technical Proficiency. I Overcame Some Of My Limitations. I Was A Hard-working, Dedicated Bassoonist, But I Have To Say I'm Not A Natural Musician.

You Can Tell It's A Poem Because It's Swimming In A Little Gel Pack Of White Space. That Shows It's A Poem.

Updike Was The First To Take The Penile Sensorium Under The Wing Of Elaborate Metaphorical Prose.

The Force Of Truth That A Statement Imparts, Then, Its Prominence Among The Hordes Of Recorded Observations That I May Optionally Apply To My Own Life, Depends, In Addition To The Sense That It Is Argumentatively Defensible, On The Sense That Someone Like Me, And Someone I Like, Whose Voice Is Audible And Who Is At Least Notionally In The Same Room With Me, Does Or Can Possibly Hold It To Be Compellingly True.

Perforation! Shout It Out! The Deliberate Punctuated Weakening Of Paper And Cardboard So That It Will Tear Along An Intended Path, Leaving A Row Of Fine-haired Pills Or Tuftlets On Each New Edge! It Is A Staggering Conception, Showing An Age-transforming Feel For The Unique Properties Of Pulped Wood Fiber.