I Like Spaghetti Because You

Everyone Should Be Forcibly Transplanted To Another Continent From Their Family At The Age Of Three.

Many Famous Feet Have Trod Sublunary Paths, And Famous Hands Have Weighed The Strength They Have Against The Strength They Need; And Famous Lips Interrogated God Concerning Franchise In Eternity.

Poetry Should Begin With Emotion In The Poet, And End With The Same Emotion In The Reader. The Poem Is Simply The Instrument Of Transferance.

Here Silence Stands Like Heat. Here Leaves Unnoticed Thicken, Hidden Weeds Flower, Neglected Waters Quicken, Luminously-peopled Air Ascends; And Past The Poppies Bluish Neutral Distance Ends The Land Suddenly Beyond A Beach Of Shapes And Shingle. Here Is Unfenced Existence: Facing The Sun, Untalkative, Out Of Reach.

One Of The Quainter Quirks Of Life Is That We Shall Never Know Who Dies On The Dame Day As We Do Ourselves.