The Poet: Would Rather Eat A Heart

In A Dark Time, The Eye Begins To See / I Meet My Shadow In The Deepening Shade...dark, Dark My Light, And Darker My Desire.

The Damage Of Teaching: The Constant Contact With The Undeveloped.

But When I Breath With The Birds, The Spirit Of Wrath Becomes The Spirit Of Blessings, And The Dead Begin From Their Dark To Sing In My Sleep.

The Self Says, I Am; The Heart Says, I Am Less; The Spirit Says, You Are Nothing.

Reason? That Dreary Shed, That Hutch For Grubby Schoolboys.