Eternity Bores Me, I Never Wanted It.

But Writing Poems And Letters Doesn't Seem To Do Much Good.

When I Fell Out Of The Light, I Entered The Stomach Of Indifference, The Wordless Cupboard.

Love, Love, I Have Hung Our Cave With Roses.

A Ring Of Gold With The Sun In It? Lies. Lies And A Grief.

I Have Let Things Slip, A Thirty-year~old Cargo Boat Stubbornly Hanging On To My Name And Address.