Direct Me Gods, Whose Changes Are All

Direct Me Gods, Whose Changes Are All Holy, To Where It Flickers Deep In Grass, The Moly.

When I First Started Teaching At Berkeley In 1958, I Could Not Announce That I Was Gay To Anybody, Though Probably Quite A Few Of My Fellow Teachers Knew.

I Don't Think Of Sex As A Self-destructive Impulse.

We Tend To Put Poems Into Factions. And It Restricts Our Reading.

As If Hands Were Enough To Hold An Avalanche Off.