What Is The Past, What Is It

Sometimes A Musical Phrase Would Perfectly Sum Up The Mood Of A Moment. One Of Those Lovelorn Sonatas For Wind Instruments Was Riding Past On A Solemn White Horse. Everybody Wondered Who The New Arrival Was.

Silly Girls Your Heads Full Of Boys

Somewhere Someone Is Traveling Furiously Toward You, At Incredible Speed, Traveling Day And Night, Through Blizzards And Desert Heat, Across Torrents, Through Narrow Passes. But Will He Know Where To Find You, Recognize You When He Sees You, Give You The Thing He Has For You?

I Always Thought That Writing Poetry Was In Itself A Political Act.

The Promise Of Learning Is A Delusion.... Tomorrow Would Alter The Sense Of What Had Already Been Learned, That The Learning Process Is Extended In This Way, So That From This Standpoint None Of Us Ever Graduates From College, For Time Is An Emulsion, And Probably Thinking Not To Grow Up Is The Brightest Kind Of Maturity For Us, Right Now At Any Rate.