Poetry Is An Echo, Asking

We Had Two Grand Antique Professors Who Had Been Teaching At Lombard Since Before I Was Born.

A Liar Goes In Fine Clothes, A Liar Goes In Rags, A Liar Is A Liar, Clothes Or No Clothes.

Life Is Like An Onion. You Peel It Off One Layer At A Time, And Sometimes You Weep.

I Took To Wearing A Black Tie Known As The Ascot, With Long Drooping Ends. I Had Seen Pictures Of Painters, Sculptors, Poets, Wearing This Style Of Tie.

Lips Half-willing In A Doorway. Lips Half-singing At A Window. Eyes Half-dreaming In The Walls. Feet Half-dancing In A Kitchen. Even The Clocks Half-yawn The Hours And The Farmers Make Half-answers.