I Am Not Resigned To The Shutting

If I Love You Wednesday, What Is That To You? I Do Not Love You Thursday - So Much Is True.

What Terrible Fear Causes Man To Address The Void As Thou?

If Ever I Said In Grief Or Pride, I'd Tired Of Honest Things, I Lied.

The Young Are So Old, They Are Born With Their Fingers Crossed.

Spring To What Purpose, April, Do You Return Again? Beauty Is Not Enough. You Can No Longer Quiet Me With The Redness Of Little Leaves Opening Stickily. I Know What I Know. The Sun Is Hot On My Neck As I Observe The Spikes Of The Crocus. The Smell Of The Earth Is Good. It Is Apparent That There Is No Death. But What Does That Signify? Not Only Under Ground Are The Brains Of Men Eaten By Maggots. Life In Itself Is Nothing, An Empty Cup, A Flight Of Uncarpeted Stairs. It Is Not Enough That Yearly, Down This Hill, April Comes Like An Idiot, Babbling And Strewing Flowers.