There Are No Hierarchies, No

The Heroes Of The Present Will Retreat To The Imitation They Are Anyhow.

Dead, Hung Up Indoors, The Kingfisher Will Not Indicate A Favoring Wind, Or Avert The Thunderbolt.

A Poem Is Energy Transferred From Where The Poet Got It (he Will Have Some Several Causations), By Way Of The Poem Itself To, All The Way Over To, The Reader.

An American Is A Complex Of Occasions, Themselves A Geometry Of Spatial Nature.

I'm Trying To Climb Up Both Walls At Once.