As If Hands Were Enough To Hold

The Painter Saw What Was, An Alternate Candor And Secrecy Inside The Skin.

One Joins The Movement In A Valueless World, Choosing It, Till Both Hurler And The Hurled, One Moves As Well, Always Toward, Toward.

One Is Always Nearer By Not Keeping Still.

I Was Reading The Poems Of Rochester. Rochester Made Himself Out To Be Bisexual, But I Think That Was Only To Shock. Most Of His Poetry Is Sexual, Even Pornographic.

We Tend To Put Poems Into Factions. And It Restricts Our Reading.