Luck most often is
the result of correcting...

You dance, leading me rhythmically,
in a slow waltz at three/four time...

Low
ceiling...

There are some people
for whom loneliness is their...

False Spring came this day
with all its attendant hopes...

If I could give you anything
it would be moments...

Can't sit still in these stupid desks
cramped in classes kept closeted...

I am the winterman
no part of this desolation is worse...

There are so many things
you will stumble over...

The boughs droop low;
even the tree is overcome with sadness...

I am counselor to lesser royalty;
my background is mysterious to them...

Those days were captured
on the postcards I sent home...