I dreamed in the sea of the Children of Lir
coming through the mists of their childhood
unrecognizably
...
to Carl Sandburg, Walter De La Mare, Charles Dickens, and Christopher Morley*
I've looked through every part of the castle,
...
to Robin Williams
complexities in music are expected; yet, a fantastic flow of words, a disease decreed the doctors to the poets time out of mind though Light itself is scattered beautifully from
quartz to quartz and this is what we call sparkling
...
you throw yourself away or think you must.
you who are made of diamond dust.
you, His heart's own core with daylight ahead of
...
the faint pink flower falling from the tree
does not ask where we can hear it anyway
will they remember me,
...
in the theatre of roses I took my seat.
of course the cushions were rose velvet.
now we begin.
...
oh God if we must
crawl on our hands and knees to
nothing that was ever a shrine
...
to e.e. cummings
and with love and sorrow for all those punished unjustly
infractions rained down tears
...
I'm fading from the world, the snow maid glistened
her words in paragraphs of clouds suspended listening.
no more winter concerts under the nebulae.
...
to Lewis Carroll
handing the comfits round
poor Alice cried again
...