Were All Moving, Moving, Moving.

Love Is Form, And Cannot Be Without Important Substance

The Canadian Voice Is Still Too Rustic.

I Defer To All These Other American Poets Who, For Some Reason, I Both Envy And Admire.

I'm Sorry, But I Was Born With A Towel On My Head.

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