If It Is Not Beautiful For Someone,

There Is Nothing More Distressing Or Tiresome Than A Writer Standing In Front Of An Audience And Reading His Work.

I Mean Why Should Somebody Go Steal And Break The Law To Get All They Can When There's Always Some Law Where You Can Be Legal And Get It All Anyway!

...mementos Of This World, In Which The Things Worth Being Were So Easily Exchanged For The Things Worth Having.

That Was Youth With Its Reckless Exuberance When All Things Were Possible Pursued By Age Where We Are Now, Looking Back At What We Destroyed, What We Tore Away From That Self Who Could Do More, And Its Work That's Become My Enemy Because That's What I Can Tell You About, That Youth Who Could Do Anything.

Tragedy Was Foresworn, In Ritual Denial Of The Ripe Knowledge That We Are Drawing Away From One Another, That We Share Only One Thing, Share The Fear Of Belonging To Another, Or To Others, Or To God; Love Or Money, Tender Equated In Advertising And The World, Where Only Money Is Currency, And Under Dead Trees And Brittle Ornaments Prehensile Hands Exchange Forgeries Of What The Heart Dare Not Surrender.