Here is an unfenced existance

They say eyes clear with age.

What will survive of us is love.

Life is first boredom, then fear.

Get stewed:Books are a load of crap.

Walk with the dead For fear of death.

A good poem about failure is a success.

I didn't choose poetry: poetry chose me.

But superstition, like belief, must die.

Something, like nothing, happens anywhere.

What are days for? Days are where we live.

Nothing, like something, happens anywhere.

Here no elsewhere underwrites my existence.

Clearly money has something to do with life.

Most things may never happen: this one will.

I work all day, and get half-drunk at night.

The breath that sharpens life is life itself.

I am awakened each dawn Increasingly to fear.

Depression hangs over me as if I were Iceland.

You can't put off being young until you retire.

Death is no different whined at than withstood.

I have no enemies. But my friends don't like me.

To write you must be warm, fed, loved and sober.

Any memory for the most part depending on chance.

Death: the anaesthetic from which none come round.

Still, vicious or virtuous, Love suits most of us.

The difficult part of love Is being selfish enough.

Depression is to me as daffodils were to Wordsworth.

I have wished you something None of the others would.

Originality is being different from oneself, not others.

Life has a practice of living you, if you don't live it.

Many modern novels have a beginning, a muddle and an end.

Deprivation is for me what daffodils were for Wordsworth.

SEX is designed for people who like overcoming obstacles.

I don't think I write well - just better than anyone else.

Novels are about other people and poems are about yourself.

Poetry is an affair of sanity, of seeing things as they are.

A good meal can somewhat repair / The eatings of slight love

But O, Photography! as no art is, Faithful and disappointing!

I wouldn't mind seeing China if I could come back the same day.

Parting is a training streamer,Lingering like leaves in autumn.

The trees are coming into leaf Like something almost being said.

I'd like to think...that people in pubs would talk about my poems

To start at a new place is always to feel incompetent & unwanted.

In everyone there sleeps a sense of life lived according to love.

Boys dream of native girls who bring breadfruit, Whatever they are.

I think that at the bottom of all art lies the impulse to preserve.

All the unhurried day / Your mind lay open like a drawer of knives.

He married a woman to stop her getting away Now she's there all day.

Joy Is for the simple or the great to feel, Neither of which we are.

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