Everything Depends On Liking The People And

Poetry - Poiesis Means A Thing Made.

Philosophy - Hopeless. Yet It Gives Me Hope.

Small, Red, And Upright He Waited, Gripping His New Bookbag Tight In One Hand And Touching A Lucky Penny Inside His Coat Pocket With The Other, While The First Snows Of Winter Floated Down On His Eyelashes And Covered The Branches Around Him And Silenced All Trace Of The World.

That Night We Made Love "the Real Way" Which We Had Not Yet Attempted Although Married Six Months. Big Mystery. No One Knew Where To Put Their Leg And To This Day I'm Not Sure We Got It Right. He Seemed Happy. You're Like Venice He Said Beautifully. Early Next Day I Wrote A Short Talk ("on Defloration") Which He Stole And Had Published In A Small Quarterly Magazine. Overall This Was A Characteristic Interaction Between Us. Or Should I Say Ideal. Neither Of Us Had Ever Seen Venice.

You Used To Say. "desire Doubled Is Love And Love Doubled Is Madness." Madness Doubled Is Marriage I Added When The Caustic Was Cool, Not Intending To Produce A Golden Rule.