When They Shall Paint Our Sockets Gray

Forward My Mail To Mars.

In A Murderous Time/the Heart Breaks And Breaks/and Lives By Breaking.

Memory Is Each Man's Poet-in-residence.

An Old Poet Ought Never To Be Caught With His Technique Showing.

Not That You Need To Be A Saint To Have Visions Worth Talking About. The Most Effective Prescription, I Suspect, Is To Be A Disciplined Sinner. Perfection, As Valery Noted, Is Work.