Not to want to say, not to know what you want to say, not to be able to say what you think you want to say, and never to stop saying, or hardly ever, that is the thing to keep in mind, even in the heat of composition.

Spend the years of learning squandering Courage for the years of wandering Through a world politely turning From the loutishness of learning.

There's no lack of void.

To find a form that accommodates the shape of the mess, that is the task of the artist now.

I lay down across her with my face in her breasts and my hand on her. We lay there without moving. But under us all moved, and moved us, gently, up and down, and from side to side.

You cried for night - it falls. Now cry in darkness.

Personally I have no bone to pick with graveyards, I take the air there willingly, perhaps more willingly than elsewhere, when take the air I must.