I Tell Poets That When A Line

Poetry Is Life Distilled.

The Civil Rights Situation Is Like A Pregnancy. It Will Get Worse, I Believe, Before It Gets Better. What The Usual Pregnancy Comes To Is A Decent Baby. That Is What We All Hope Will Be The End Product Of This Stress. It Is Customary, At The End Of A Pregnancy, To Have For Your Pains A Decent Baby.

There Are No Magics Or Elves / Or Timely Godmothers To Guide Us. We Are Lost, Must / Wizard A Track Through Our Own Screaming Weed.

Goodness Begins Simply With The Fact Of Life Itself.

I Swear To Keep The Dead Upon My Mind, / Disdain For All Time To Be Overglad.