INTERLUDE: ON PRESERVING A POETICAL FORMULA (I) "There's less and less cohesion In each collection Of my published poetries?" You are taking me to task? And "What were my last Royalties? Reckoned in pounds, were they, or shillings, Or even perhaps in pence?" No, do not ask! I'm lost, in buyings and sellings. But please permit only once more for luck Irreconcilabilities in my book.... For these are all the same stuff really, The obverse and reverse, if you look closely, Of busy Imagination's new-coined money; And if you watch the blind Phototropisms of my fluttering mind, Whether, growing strong, I wrestle Jacob-wise With fiendish darkness blinking threatfully Its bale-fire eyes, Or whether childishly I dart to Mother-skirts of love and peace To play with toys until those horrors leave me-- Yet note, whichever way I find release, By fight or flight By being harsh or tame, The SPIRIT'S the same, the Pen-and-Ink's the same. (II)

Epitaph on an Unfortunate Artist