In his winged collar

he flew. The nation wanted peace. Our Perseus!

William Blake, William

Blake, William Blake, William Blake, say it and feel new!

Love without sex is

still the most efficient form of hell known to man.

A professional

is one who believes he has invented breathing.

The Creation had

to find room for the exper- imental novel.

When daffodils be-

gin to peer: watch out, para- noia's round the bend.

I get out of bed

and say goodbye to people I won't meet again.

I sit and worry

about money who very soon will have to die.

I consider it

my duty to be old hat so you can hate me.

I am getting fat

and unattractive but so much nicer to know.

Somewhere at the heart

of the universe sounds the true mystic note: Me.

Here is dust remembers it was a rose one time and lay in a woman's hair. Here is dust remembers it was a woman one time and in her hair lay a rose. Oh things one time dust, what else now is it you dream and remember of old days?

I think that I shall never see A poem lovely as a tree. A tree whose hungry mouth is prest Against the earth's sweet flowing breast; A tree that looks at God all day, And lifts her leafy arms to pray; A tree that may in Summer wear A nest of robins in her hair; Upon whose bosom snow has lain; Who intimately lives with rain. Poems are made by fools like me, But only God can make a tree.