Each Body Is A Lion Of Courage,

What Can We Do But Keep On Breathing In And Out, Modest And Willing, And In Our Places?

Along With The Differences That Abide In Each Of Us, There Is Also In Each Of Us A Maverick, The Darling Stubborn One Who Won't Listen, Who Insists, Who Chooses Preference Or The Spirited Guess Over Yardsticks Or Even History. I Suspect This Maverick Is Somewhat What The Soul Is, Or At Least That The Soul Lives Close By And Companionably With Its Agitating And Inquiring Force.

And I Do Not Want Anymore To Be Useful, To Be Docile, To Lead / Children Out Of The Fields Into The Text / Of Civility, To Teach Them That They Are (they Are Not) Better Than The Grass.

I Was Hurrying Through My Own Soul . . . I Was Leaning Out . . . I Was Listening.

We Do Not Love Anything More Deeply Than We Love A Story.