Poetry Must Be As New As Foam

Literary Party: A Traffic Jam Of The Lost Waiting For The Ferry Across The Styx.

Each Minute Bursts In The Burning Room,the Great Globe Reels In The Solar Fire,spinning The Trivial And Unique Away.(how All Things Flash! How All Things Flare!)what Am I Now That I Was Then?may Memory Restore Again And Againthe Smallest Color Of The Smallest Day:time Is The School In Which We Learn,time Is The Fire In Which We Burn.

Major Writing Is To Say That Which Has Been Seen, So That It Need Never Be Said Again; So That Which Has Been Seen Increases, Changes In Reality, In Being.

Literature Doesn't Matter! The Only Thing That Matters Is Money And Getting Your Teeth Fixed!

What Does Long Life Avail? The Best Seats At The Funerals Of Friends.