Dear, I Can't Write, It's

I Am Awakened Each Dawn Increasingly To Fear.

My Age Fallen Away Like White Swaddling Floats In The Middle Distance, Becomes An Inhabited Cloud.

I Can't Understand These Chaps Who Go Round American Universities Explaining How They Write Poems: It's Like Going Round Explaining How You Sleep With Your Wife.

Walk With The Dead For Fear Of Death.

Living In England Has No Such Excuse: These Are My Customs And Establishments.