The Ear Writes My Poems, Not The

The Supreme Morality Of Art Is To Endure.

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

It Is My Heart That's Late, It Is My Song That's Flown.

A Longing For The Dance Stirs In The Buried Life.

I Associate The Garden With The Whole Experience Of Being Alive, And So, There Is Nothing In The Range Of Human Experience That Is Separate From What The Garden Can Signify In Its Eagerness And Its Insistence, And In Its Driving Energy To Live -- To Grow, To Bear Fruit.