And I Say To My

Every Adjective And Adverb Is Worth Five Cents. Every Verb Is Worth Fifty Cents.

Listen--are You Breathing Just A Little, And Calling It A Life?

When It's Over I Don't Want To Wonder If I Have Made Of My Life Something Particular, And Real.

How Heron Comes It Is A Negligence Of The Mind Not To Notice How At Dusk Heron Comes To The Pond And Stands There In His Death Robes, Perfect Servant Of The System, Hungry, His Eyes Full Of Attention, His Wings Pure Light

Writing A Poem ... Is A Kind Of Possible Love Affair Between Something Like The Heart (that Courageous But Also Shy Factory Of Emotion) And The Learned Skills Of The Conscious Mind.