And The Case Of Butterflies

It Is Fatal To Decide, Intellectually, What Good Poetry Is Because You Are Then In Honour Bound To Try To Write It, Instead Of The Poems That Only You Can Write.

Walk With The Dead For Fear Of Death.

Only One Ship Is Seeking Us, A Black-sailed Unfamiliar, Towing At Her Backa Huge And Birdless Silence. In Her Wakeno Waters Breed Or Break.

Things Are Tougher Than We Are, Just As Earth Will Always Respond However We Mess It About.

Boys Dream Of Native Girls Who Bring Breadfruit, Whatever They Are.