Poetry Is All Nouns And Verbs.

[the] Whirlwind Fife-and-drum Of The Storm Bends The Salt Marsh Grass, Disturbs Stars In The Sky And The Star On The Steeple; It Is A Privilege To See So Much Confusion.

Poetry Is The Art Of Creating Imaginary Gardens With Real Toads.

I Wonder What Adam And Eve Think Of It By This Time.

All Are / Naked, None Is Safe.

Superior People Never Make Long Visits.