The Artist Is Not A Man Who

Meanwhile Myself Et Cetera Lay Quietly In The Deep Mud Et Cetera (dreaming, Et Cetera, Of Your Smile Eyes Knees And Of Your Etcetera.)

You Are My Sun, My Moon, And All My Stars.

Always It’s Spring)and Everyone’s In Love And Flowers Pick Themselves.

An Intelligent Person Fights For Lost Causes, Realizing That Others Are Merely Effects

Love Is A Deeper Season Than Reason; My Sweet One