The world's perverse, but it could be worse.
One could not live without delicacy, but when / I think of love I think of the big, clumsy-looking / hands of my grandmother, each knuckle a knob.
I bless / all knowledge of love, all ways of publishing it.
Love' is finding the familiar dear. / 'In love' is to be taken by surprise.
There is no disorder but the heart's.
The end / of passion / may refashion / a friend.
In politics, arts / no issue's dramatic / nor will 'play' till its heart's / simplified to fanatic.
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