In The Street Of The Sky Night

Nothing Which We Are To Perceive In This World Equals The Power Of Your Intense Fragility:whose Texture Compels Me With The Colour Of Its Countries, Rendering Death And Forever With Each Breathing (i Do Not Know What It Is About You That Closes And Opens;only Something In Me Understands The Voice Of Your Eyes Is Deeper Than All Roses) Nobody,not Even The Rain, Has Such Small Hands -excerpt Of #35 From "100 Selected Poems

It Takes Courage To Grow Up And Become Who You Really Are.

I Was Too Tired To Think. I Merely Felt The Town As A Unique Unreality. What Was It? I Knew -- The Moon's Picture Of A Town. These Streets With Their Houses Did Not Exist, They Were But A Ludicrous Projection Of The Moon's Sumptuous Personality. This Was A City Of Pretend, Created By The Hypnotism Of Moonnight. -- Yet When I Examined The Moon She Too Seemed But A Painting Of A Moon And The Sky In Which She Lived A Fragile Echo Of Color. If I Blew Hard The Whole Shy Mechanism Would Collapse Gently With A Neat Soundless Crash. I Must Not, Or Lose All.

-tomorrow Is Our Permanent Address And There They’ll Scarcely Find Us(if They Do, We’ll Move Away Still Further:into Now

O To Be In Finland/ Now That Russia's Here)