Books Are Not Men And Yet They

Life Is Not Lost By Dying! Life Is Lost, Minute By Minute, Day By Dragging Day, In All The Thousand, Small, Uncaring Ways...

I Have Fallen In Love With American Names, The Sharp Names That Never Get Fat, The Snakeskin-titles Of Mining-claims, The Plumed War-bonnet Of Medicine Hat, Tucson And Deadwood And Lost Mule Flat.

A Phrase May Come To Me As I Am Walking, And, Once I Write It Down In My Journal, The Rest Of The Poem Will Unravel From That Catalyst.

There's Nothing Compared To The History Of Writing About The City Of New York That You Get, Say, In Charles Reznikoff.

If Two New Hampshiremen Aren't A Match For The Devil, We Might As Well Give The Country Back To The Indians.