One could not live without delicacy, but when / I think of love I think of the big, clumsy-looking / hands of my grandmother, each knuckle a knob.
In politics, arts / no issue's dramatic / nor will 'play' till its heart's / simplified to fanatic.
The end / of passion / may refashion / a friend.
Love' is finding the familiar dear. / 'In love' is to be taken by surprise.
There is no disorder but the heart's.
The world's perverse, but it could be worse.