With My Own Group I Like To

The Modern Sensibility Attempts To Drain The Contents Of Experience; These Greek Poets Strive To State The Fact So Poignantly That It Becomes An Ever-flowing Spring As Sappho Says, "more Real Than Real, More Gold Than Gold.

I've Had It With These Cheap Sons Of Bitches Who Claim They Love Poetry But Never Buy A Book.

Maturity Is Having The Ability To Escape Categorization.

Now I Know Surely And Forever, However Much I Have Blotted Our Waking Love, Its Memory Is Still There. And I Know The Web, The Net, The Blind And Crippled Bird. For Then, For One Brief Instant It Was Not Blind, Nor Trapped, Not Crippled. For One Heart Beat The Heart Was Free And Moved Itself. O Love, I Who Am Lost And Damned With Words, Whose Words Are A Business And An Art, I Have No Words. These Words, This Poem, This Is All Confusion And Ignorance. But I Know That Coached By Your Sweet Heart, My Heart Beat One Free Beat And Sent Through All My Flesh The Blood Of Truth.

There Have Always Been Those Who, Though They See Tragedy As The Outcome Of Freedom, Will Nevertheless Judge That Tragedy Is Not Too High A Price To Pay.