We All Want What's Been Suddenly Disallowed.

What Does Not Change Is The Will To Change

Dead, Hung Up Indoors, The Kingfisher Will Not Indicate A Favoring Wind, Or Avert The Thunderbolt.

There Is A Grace Of Life Which Is Still Yours, My Dear Europe.

The Poem, For Me, Is Simply The First Sound Realized In The Modality Of Being.

What Pudor Pejorocracy Affronts How Awe, Night-rest And Neighborhood Can Rot What Breeds Where Dirtiness Is Law What Crawls Below