What concerns me fundamentaly is a meteoric burlesk melodrama, born of the immemorial adage love will find a way.

who pays any attention to the syntax of things will never wholly kiss you

i do not know what it is about you that closes and opens;only something in me understands the voice of your eyes is deeper than all roses

-Before leaving my room i turn, and (stooping through the morning) kiss this pillow, dear where our heads lived and were.

since feelings come first, who cares about the syntax of things?

i remember we all cried like the Missouri when my Uncle Sol's coffin lurched because somebody pressed a button (and down went my uncle Sol and started a worm farm)

the moon rattles like a fragment of angry candy