All Poetry, As Discriminated From The Various

How Can One Better Magnify The Almighty Than By Sniggering With Him At His Little Jokes, Particularly The Poorer Ones?

And What I Have, What I Am, Is Enough, Was Always Enough For Me, And As Far As My Dear Little Sweet Little Future Is Concerned I Have No Qualms, I Have A Good Time Coming.

Reality, Whether Approached Imaginatively Or Empirically, Remains A Surface, Hermetic.

To Find A Form That Accommodates The Mess, That Is The Task Of The Artist Now.

It Sometimes Happens And Will Sometimes Happen Again That I Forget Who I Am And Strut Before My Eyes, Like A Stranger.