If You Wish, I Shall Grow Irreproachably

If You Like I'll Be Furious Flesh Elemental, Or- Changing To Tones That The Sunset Arouses- If You Like- I'll Be Extraordinary Gentle, Not A Man But - A Cloud In Trousers.

Listen! If Stars Are Lit It Means There Is Someone Who Needs It, It Means Someone Wants Them To Be, That Someone Deems Those Specks Of Spit Magnificent!

I Want To Be Understood By My Country, But If I Fail To Be Understood - What Then?, I Shall Pass Through My Native Land To One Side, Like A Shower Of Slanting Rain.

My Verse Has Brought Me No Roubles To Spare: No Craftsmen Have Made Mahogany Chairs For My House.

Formerly I Believed Books Were Made Like This: A Poet Came, Lightly Opened His Lips, And The Inspired Fool Burst Into Song – If You Please! But It Seems, Before They Can Launch A Song, Poets Must Tramp For Days With Callused Feet, And The Sluggish Fish Of The Imagination Flounders Softly In The Slush Of The Heart. And While, With Twittering Rhymes, They Boil A Broth Of Loves And Nightingales, The Tongueless Street Merely Writhes For Lack Of Something To Shout Or Say