I Think I Want To Be In

His Wedding Gift, Clasped Round My Throat. A Choker Of Rubies, Two Inches Wide, Like An Extraordinarily Precious Slit Throat.

She Stood Lost In Eternity Wearing A Crazy Dress, Watching The Immense Sky.

The Tiger Will Never Lie Down With The Lamb; He Acknowledges No Pact That Is Not Reciprocal. The Lamb Must Learn To Run With The Tigers.

Spindly Branches Of Buttercups Were Secreted Among Gleaming Stems Still Moist At The Roots From Last Night's Rain That Had Washedand Refreshed The Entire Wood, Had Dowered It In Poignant Transparency, The Unique, Inconsolable Quality Of Rainy Countries, As If All Was Glimpsed Through Tears.

Art Need No Longer Be An Account Of Past Sensations.