Heard ten thousand whispering and nobody listening. Heard one person starve, I heard many people laughing. Heard the song of a poet who died in the gutter.

I'll stand over your grave 'til I'm sure that you're dead.

A cat's meow and cow's moo, I can recite them all.

There are a lot of places I like, but I like New Orleans better.

Upon four-legged forest clouds the cowboy angel rides

The truth that I am seeking is in your missing file.

I think a poet is anybody who wouldn't call himself a poet.