I read as much poetry as time allows and circumstance dictates: No heartache can pass without a little Dorothy Parker no thunderstorm without W. H. Auden no sleepless night without W. B. Yeats.

Acceptable food rots while we are chased from bins behind restaurants chased from sleeping on the street chased from relieving ourselves unless we pay for food or gas until finally we are so hungry sleepless smelly constipated and beaten-down that we simply die of lack of will to live.

I shall give you hunger and pain and sleepless nights. Also beauty and satisfactions known to few and glimpses of the heavenly life. None of these you shall have continually and of their coming and going you shall not be foretold.