Home Is So Sad. It

And The Case Of Butterflies So Rich It Looks As If All Summer Settled There And Died.

On Me Your Voice Falls As They Say Love Should, Like An Enormous Yes.

One Of The Great Criticisms Of Poets Of The Past Is That They Said One Thing And Did Another.

A Writer Once Said To Me, If You Ever Go To America, Go Either To The East Coast Or The West Coast: The Rest Is A Desert Full Of Bigots. That's What I Think I'd Like . . . A Version Of Pastoral.

I Have Wished You Something None Of The Others Would.