I Never Take My Own Side In

I Think I Know Enough Of Hate To Say That For Destruction Ice Is Also Great And Would Suffice.

It's Hard To Get Into This World And Hard To Get Out Of It, And What's In Between Doesn't Make Much Sense.

Like A Piece Of Ice On A Hot Stove The Poem Must Ride On Its Own Melting. . . . Read It A Hundred Times; It Will Forever Keep Its Freshness As A Metal Keeps Its Fragrance. It Can Never Lose Its Sense Of A Meaning That Once Unfolded By Surprise As It Went.

No Memory Of Having Starred Atones For Later Disregard, Or Keeps The End From Being Hard.

Love At The Lips Was Touch As Sweet As I Could Bear; And Once That Seemed Too Much; I Lived On Air.