To Live, To Err, To

Poetry, Even When Apparently Most Fantastic, Is Always A Revolt Against Artifice, A Revolt, In A Sense, Against Actuality.

My Mouth Is Full Of Decayed Teeth And My Soul Of Decayed Ambitions.

Once Upon A Time And A Very Good Time It Was There Was A Moocow Coming Down Along The Road And This Moocow That Was Coming Down Along The Road Met A Nicens Little Boy Named Baby Tuckoo

Mr. Duffy Lived A Short Distance From His Body.

To Live, To Err, To Fall, To Triumph, To Recreate Life Out Of Life.