I Like Poems You Can

Therefore Bivouac We On This Great, Blond Highway, Unimpeded By Veiled Scruples, Worn Conundrums. Morning Is Impermanent. Grab Sex Things, Swing Up Over The Horizon Like A Boy On A Fishing Expedition.

I Like Poems You Can Tack All Over With A Hammer And There Are No Hollow Places.

Extreme Patience And Persistence Are Required, Yet Everybody Succeeds At This Before Being Handed The Surprise Box Lunch Of The Rest Of His Life.

I Am Often Asked Why I Write, And I Don't Know Really--i Just Want To.

Much That Is Beautiful Must Be Discarded So That We May Resemble A Taller Impression Of Ourselves.