Life, friends, is boring. We must not say so. br After all, the sky flashes, the great sea yearns, br we ourselves flash and yearn, br and moreover my mother told me as a boy br (repeatedly) 'Ever to confess you're bored br means you have no br br Inner Resources.' I conclude now I have no br inner resources, because I am heavy bored. br Peoples bore me, br literature bores me, especially great literature, br Henry bores me, with his plights & gripes br as bad as achilles, br br Who loves people and valiant art, which bores me. br And the tranquil hills, & gin, look like a drag br and somehow a dog br has taken itself & its tail considerably away br into mountains or sea or sky, leaving br behind: me, wag.