...there Is No Old Age

Each Man Has His Own Batch Of Poems.

...there Is No Old Age Of The Soul.

In Los Angeles All The Loose Objects In The Country Were Collected, As If America Had Been Tilted And Everything That Wasn't Tightly Screwed Down Had Slid Into Southern California.

There Is Simply Too Much To Think About.

The Flesh Would Shrink And Go, The Blood Would Dry, But No One Believes In His Mind Of Minds Or Heart Of Hearts That The Pictures Do Stop.