Worse even than your maddening song, your silence.

As a poet I would say everything should be able to come into a poem but I can't put toothbrushes in a poem. I really can't.

I am but one more drop in the great sea of matter, defined, with the ability to realize my existence.

And I identify too closely with my reading, with my writing.

I’d discovered, after a lot of extreme apprehension about what spoons to use, that if you do something incorrect at table with a certain arrogance, as if you knew perfectly well you were doing it properly, you can get away with it and nobody will think you are bad-mannered or poorly brought up. They will think you are original and very witty.

I took a deep breath and listened to the old bray of my heart. I am. I am. I am.

Joy:show joy & enjoy: then others will be joyful.