I Saw The Spiders Marching

Sometimes Nothing Is So Solid To Me As Writing - I Suppose That's What A Vocation Means - At Times A Torment, A Bad Conscience, But All In All, Purpose And Direction.

Pity The Planet, All Joy Gone From This Sweet Volcanic Cone

And Blue-lung'd Combers Lumbered To The Kill.

Pity The Planet, All Joy Gone From This Sweet Volcanic Cone; Peace To Our Children When They Fall In Small War On The Heel Of Small War--until The End Of Time To Police The Earth, A Ghost Orbiting Forever Lost In Our Monotonous Sublime

I Myself Am Hell; Nobody's Here