Maturity<br>A stationary sense... as$$$ I suppose$$$<br>I shall have$$$ till my single body grows<br>Inaccurate$$$ tired;<br>Then I shall start to feel the backward pull<br>Take over$$$ sickening and masterful<br>Some say$$$ desired.<br>And this must be the prime of life... I blink$$$<br>As if at pain; for it is pain$$$ to think<br>This pantomime<br>Of compensating act and counter-act$$$<br>Defeat and counterfeit$$$ makes up$$$ in fact$$$<br>My ablest time.

I seem to walk on a transparent surface and see beneath me all the bones and wrecks and tentacles that will eventually claim me: in other words$$$ old age$$$ incapacity$$$ loneliness$$$ death of others & myself...

Sexual intercourse began in nineteen sixty-three (Which was rather late for me) between the end of the Chatterley ban and the Beatles' first LP.

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

It all depends on how we look at things$$$ and not how they are in themselves.

We cannot change anything unless we accept it.

I can't sing a love song like the way it's meant to be.

You don't need fancy sneakers to run fast.

When the world gets in my face I say$$$ have a nice day.

My mother says men are different from us. She says we want to be in love$$$ but only with the one we want; a man needs to be in love$$$ but he will love the first woman to tie a string to his heart.