It's Easy To Write When You've Nothing

Heads In The Women's Ward On Pillow After Pillow Lies The Wild White Hair And Staring Eyes; Jaws Stand Open; Necks Are Stretched With Every Tendon Sharply Sketched; A Bearded Mouth Talks Silently To Someone No One Else Can See. Sixty Years Ago They Smiled At Lover, Husband, First-born Child. Smiles Are For Youth. For Old Age Come Death's Terror And Delirium.

Only In Books The Flat And Final Happens, Only In Dreams We Meet And Interlock.

What Are Days For? Days Are Where We Live.

The Trees Are Coming Into Leaf Like Something Almost Being Said.

Give Me A Thrill, Says The Reader, Give Me A Kick; I Don't Care How You Succeed, Or What Subject You Pick.