Who owns the whole rainy, stony earth? Death. Who owns all of space? Death. - Ted Hughes

The deeps are cold:
In that darkness camaraderie does not hold:
Nothing touches but, clutching, devours.

But who is stronger than death?
Me, evidently.

I’ve sometimes wondered if it wouldn’t be a good idea to write under a few pseudonyms. Keep several quite different lines of writing going. Like Fernando Pessoa, the Portuguese poet who tried four different poetic personalities. They all worked simultaneously. He simply lived with the four. What does Eliot say? “Dance, dance, / Like a dancing bear, / Cry like a parrot, chatter like an ape, / To find expression.” It’s certainly limiting to confine your writing to one public persona, because the moment you publish your own name you lose freedom.