The Effective In Art Is What Rapes

Guilt Always Hurries Towards Its Complement, Punishment: Only There Does Its Satisfaction Lie.

Now Stiff On A Pillar With A Phallic Air Nelson Stylites In Trafalgar Square Reminds The British What Once They Were.

How Grudging Memory Is, And How Bitterly She Clutches The Raw Material Of Her Daily Work.

After All The Work Of The Philosophers On His Soul And The Doctors On His Body, What Can We Really Say We Know About A Man? That He Is, When All Is Said And Done, Just A Passage For Liquids And Solids, A Pipe Of Flesh.

Let Us Define 'man' As A Poet Perpetually Conspiring Against Himself.