Well, write poetry, for God's sake, it's the only thing that matters.

In just - Spring when the world is mud- luscious the little lame balloonman whistles far and wee

Like the burlesque comedian, I am abnormally fond of that precision which creates movement.

i carry your heart with me(i carry it in my heart)

Unless you love someone, nothing else makes any sense.

As small as a world as large as alone.

Lessons hide in his wrinkles. Bells ding in the oldness of eyes. Did he by, any chance, tell children that there are such monstrous things as peace and goodwill...a corrupter of youth no doubt.