How Shall The Heart Be Reconciled /

The Poem In The Head Is Always Perfect. Resistance Begins When You Try To Convert It Into Language.

The Heart Breaks And Breaks And Lives By Breaking It Is Necessary To Go Through Dark And Deeper Dark And Not To Turn

The Universe Is A Continuous Web. Touch It At Any Point And The Whole Web Quivers.

I Dance/for The Joy Of Surviving, At The Edge Of The Road.

Not That You Need To Be A Saint To Have Visions Worth Talking About. The Most Effective Prescription, I Suspect, Is To Be A Disciplined Sinner. Perfection, As Valery Noted, Is Work.