We All Want What's Been

And All Now Is War Where So Lately There Was Peace, And The Sweet Brotherhood, The Use Of Tilled Fields.

Were All Moving, Moving, Moving. Isnt It Nice?

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

I Don't Live For Poetry. I Live Far More Than Anybody Else Does.

I'm One Of The Cliches That Has Grown Up.