BY STEPHEN PAUL
Too much, his words - they never say the things he thinks he's saying,
Closing doors quite carelessly on fragile promises, though silently.
These utterings clasped between the hands of clowns updig the semblance
Of a living thing, alike poor Yorick's skull, now known, but hardly understood.
If there was one, only one thing he should have realized, it was to "just shut up."