So We Went To Bed,

For Your Own Good Is A Persuasive Argument That Will Eventually Make A Man Agree To His Own Destruction.

It Would Be Nice To Travel If You Knew Where You Were Going And Where You Would Live At The End Or Do We Ever Know, Do We Ever Live Where We Live, We're Always In Other Places, Lost, Like Sheep.

We Could Think Or Feel As We Wished Toward The Characters, Or As The Poet, Discounting History, Invited Us To; We Were The Poet's Guest, His World Was His Own Kingdom, Reached, As One Of The Poems Told Us, Through The 'ring Of Words.

Death Is A Dramatic Accomplishment Of Absence; Language May Be Almost As Effective.

Much Of Living Is An Attempt To Preserve Oneself By Annexing And Occupying Others.