The People Are The Biggest Horror Show

Poetry Is What Happens When Nothing Else Can.

Joan Of Arc Had Style. Jesus Had Style.

Maybe When I Get In The Grave, Things Will Be Beautiful.

When I Begin To Doubt My Ability To Work The Word, I Simply Read Another Writer And Know I Have Nothing To Worry About. My Contest Is Only With Myself, To Do It Right, With Power, And Force, And Delight, And Gamble.

I Can't Blame Her. But Wonder Why She's Here With Me? Where Are The Other Guys? How Can You Be Lucky? Having Someone The Others Have Abandoned?