Poetry Is A Dividend From What You

The History Of My Stupidity Would Fill Many Volumes.

I Imagine The Earth When I Am No More: Women's Dresses, Dewy Lilacs, A Song In The Valley. Yet The Books Will Be There On The Shelves, Well Born, Derived From People, But Also From Radiance, Heights.

Men Will Clutch At Illusions When They Have Nothing Else To Hold To.

The Voice Of Passion Is Better Than The Voice Of Reason. The Passionless Cannot Change History.

All Was Taken Away From You: White Dresses, Wings, Even Existence.