I Long For The Bulbs

Letters Are So Much Easier Than Living. One Can Give One's Best.

What Is Destructive Is Impatience, Haste, Expecting Too Much Too Fast.

Over And Over Again I Am Struck By The Wordiness Of Modern Poetry, As If Language Had Replaced Experience And Must Be More And More Extreme, Intricate And In A Way Divorced From Life Itself. It Seems As If What We All Need Is A Great Purification - But How Will That Come About?

Flowers And Plants Are Silent Presences. They Nourish Every Sense Except The Ear.

Do I Think There's Life After Death? No, I Think My Books Are My Life After Death.