Your Head Is A Living Forest Full

Buffalo Bill's Defunct Who Used To Ride A Watersmooth-silver Stallion And Break Onetwothreefourfive Pigeonsjustlikethat Jesus He Was A Handsome Man And What I Want To Know Is How Do You Like Your Blueeyed Boy Mister Death

Who Knows If The Moon's / A Balloon, Coming Out Of A Keen City / In The Sky - Filled With Pretty People?

Nothing Which We Are To Perceive In This World Equals The Power Of Your Intense Fragility:whose Texture Compels Me With The Colour Of Its Countries, Rendering Death And Forever With Each Breathing (i Do Not Know What It Is About You That Closes And Opens;only Something In Me Understands The Voice Of Your Eyes Is Deeper Than All Roses) Nobody,not Even The Rain, Has Such Small Hands -excerpt Of #35 From "100 Selected Poems

For Whenever Men Are Right They Are Not Young

Deeds Cannot Dream What Dreams Can Do