bulls strut in pinwheel glory,
rockets stun the sky,
but I don't know
quite what to make
of the dead flowers
of myself,
whether to dump them
out of the bowl
or
press them between
these blank pages
and go on;
well, all grief comes down
to hard death
and weeping finally ends.
thank the god
who made
it.
To do a dull thing with style – now that’s what I call art.
The poem has some value, believe me. It keeps you from going totally mad.
The cat is the beautiful devil.
People don’t need love. What they need is success in one form or another. It can be love but it needn’t be.
Justice is everywhere and it’s working.
Love it or leave it.
The whole world is caught in her glance and at last the universe is magnificent.
People lack originality.
She’s mad, but she’s magic. There’s no lie in her fire.
Let’ em learn or let’ em die.
Dogs and angels are not very far apart.
Goodness can be found sometimes in the middle of hell.
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and then