We Think We're Living In

Enormous Morning, Ponderous, Meticulous; Gray Light Streaking Each Bare Branch, Each Single Twig, Along One Side, Making Another Tree, Of Glassy Veins.

It's Great People Still Care About Books, And It's Great You Can Still Fashion A Life From Literature.

Dogs Are Dim Creatures, Do Not Speak To Me Of Their Good Sense--have You Ever Heard Of A Team Of Tomcats Hauling A Sled Across The Frozen Wastes?

Life Is Tragic But It's Equally Comic.

I'm A Hopeless 19th-century Romantic.