Dark is a way and light is a place, Heaven that never was Nor will be ever is always true "Poem on His Birthday

Beginning with doom in the bulb, the spring unravels.

I sang in my chains like the sea

Oh as I was young and easy in the mercy of his means, Time held me green and dying Though I sang in my chains like the sea.

Especially when the October wind With frosty fingers punishes my hair, Caught by the crabbing sun I walk on fire And cast a shadow crab upon the land, By the sea's side, hearing the noise of birds, Hearing the raven cough in winter sticks, My busy heart who shudders as she talks Sheds the syllabic blood and drains her words.

The function of posterity is to look after itself.

My education was the liberty I had to read indiscriminately and all the time, with my eyes hanging out.