Words Were Her Plague And Words Were

There Is No Man Can Take, There Is No Pool Can Slake, Ultimately I Am Alone; Ultimately I Am Done.

The Heart The Heart The Heart How It Thrives On Hate.

Dead Men Would Start And Move Toward Me To Learn Of Love.

We Don't Have To Know,only To Be:let Go The Jumble Of Worn Words,reason And Vanity.

O Beautiful White Land, Olives And Wild Anemone And Violet Mingled Among The Shale, And Purple Wings Of Little Winter-butterflies Say, Here Psyche, The Soul, Lies.