“I am locked in a very expensive suitold elegant and enduringOnly my hair has been able to get freebut someone has been leavingtheir dandruff in itNow I will tell youall there is to know about optimismEach day in hub cap mirrorin soup reflectionin other people's spectaclesI check my hairfor an army of alpinistsfor Indian rope trick mastersfor tangled aviatorsfor dove and albatrossfor insect suicidesfor abominable snowmenI check my hairfor aerialists of every kindDedicated as an automatic elevatorI comb my hair for possibilitiesI stick my neck outI lean illegally from locomotive windowsand only for the barberdo I wear a hat”

“My friends are gone and my hair is grey.I ache in places I used to play.And I’m crazy for love but I’m not coming on.I’m just paying my rent every day in the tower of song.”

“When I have not rage or sorrow, and you depart from me, then I am most afraid. When the belly is full, and the mind has its sayings, then I fear for my soul; I rush to you as a child at night breaks into its parents' room. Do not forget me in my satisfaction. When the heart grins at itself, the world is destroyed. And I am found alone with the husks and the shells. Then the dangerous moment comes: I am too great to ask for help. I have other hopes. I legislate from the fortress of my disappointments, with a set jaw. Overthrow this even terror with a sweet remembrance: when I was with you, when my soul delighted you, when I was what you wanted. My heart sings of your longing for me, and my thoughts climb down to marvel at your mercy. I do not fear as you gather up my days. Your name is the sweetness of time, and you carry me close into the night, speaking consolations, drawing down lights from the sky, saying, See how the night has no terror for one who remembers the Name.”

“Be With Me In The Phases Of My Work Because My Brain Feels Like It Has Been Whipped And I Yearn To Make A Small Perfect Thing Which Will Live In Your Morning Like Curious Static Through A President's Elegy Or A Nude Hunchback Acquiring A Tan On The Crowded Oily Beach. ”

“I walk through the old yellow sunlightto get to my kitchen tablethe poem about melying there with the booksin which I am listedamong the dead and future Dylans”

“In My Secret Life""I saw you this morning,you were moving so fast.Can't seem to loosen my gripOn the past.And I miss you so much,there's no one in sight.And we're still making loveIn my secret life.I smile when I am angry,I cheat and I lie,I do what I have to doto get by,In my secret life.”

“My heart sings of your longing for me, and my thoughts climb down to marvel at your mercy. I do not fear as you gather up my days. Your name is the sweetness of time, and you carry me close into the night, speaking consolations, drawing down lights from the sky, saying, See how the night has no terrors for one who remembers the name.”