The Flowers Are Ravined By Bees, The

The Body Whips The Soul. In Its Great Desire It Demands The Elixir In The Roar Of Spring, Transmutations.

Of Rhythm Is Image / Of Image Is Knowing / Of Knowing There Is / A Construct

A Poem Is Energy Transferred From Where The Poet Got It (he Will Have Some Several Causations), By Way Of The Poem Itself To, All The Way Over To, The Reader.

Fact Is Based Upon Vulgar Matter.

You Don't Help People In Your Poems. I've Been Trying To Help People All My Life - That's My Trouble