I Am Awakened Each Dawn Increasingly To

What Are Days For? Days Are Where We Live.

To Write You Must Be Warm, Fed, Loved And Sober.

Most People Know More As They Get Older: I Give All That The Cold Shoulder.

Uncontradicting Solitude Supports Me On Its Giant Palm; And Like A Sea-anemone Or Simple Snail, There Cautiously Unfolds, Emerges, What I Am.

Beneath It All, Desire Of Oblivion Runs: Despite The Artful Tensions Of The Calendar, The Life Insurance, The Tabled Fertility Rites, The Costly Aversion Of The Eyes From Death- Beneath It All, Desire Of Oblivion Runs.