Poetry Is A Fresh Morning

There Is No Song To Your Singing.

I Had Taken A Course In Ethics. I Read A Thick Textbook, Heard The Class Discussions And Came Out Of It Saying I Hadn't Learned A Thing I Didn't Know Before About Morals And What Is Right Or Wrong In Human Conduct.

And All Poets Love Dust And Mist Because All The Last Answers. Go Running Back To Dust And Mist.

To Work Hard, To Live Hard, To Die Hard, And Then Go To Hell After All Would Be Too Damned Hard.

Poetry Is A Mock Of A Cry At Finding A Million Dollars And A Mock Of A Laugh At Losing It.