You Don't Have To Deserve Your Mother's

Writing Free Verse Is Like Playing Tennis With The Net Down.

Poets Are Like Baseball Pitchers. Both Have Their Moments. The Intervals Are The Tough Things.

But Strictly Held By None, Is Loosely Bound By Countless Silken Ties Of Love And Thought To Everything On Earth The Compass Round, And Only By One's Going Slightly Taut In The Capriciousness Of Summer Air Is Of The Slightest Bondage Made Aware.

But These Are Flowers That Fly And All But Sing: And Now From Having Ridden Out Desire They Lie Closed Over In The Wind And Cling Where Wheels Have Freshly Sliced The April Mire.

Men Work Together, Whether They Work Together Or Apart.