If There Is One Thing In Life

A Mother Takes Twenty Years To Make A Man Of Her Boy, And Another Woman Makes A Fool Of Him In Twenty Minutes.

How Are We To Write The Russian Novel In America As Long As Life Goes So Unterribly?

Let Cloud Shapes Swarm, / Let Chaos Storm, / I Wait For Form.

Don't Ever Take A Fence Down Until You Know Why It Was Put Up.

Before Now Poetry Has Taken Notice Of Wars, And What Are Wars But Politics Transformed From Chronic To Acute And Bloody?