I Love What's Left After

There's A Certain Pleasure In Violating The Strictures Of Your Education. The Trick Is, If You're Going To Explore Ideas In A Poem, To Be Suspicious Of Ideas And Suspicious Of Your Own Mind At The Same Time. It's Often A Matter Of Orchestration And Pacing. Of Shaping Some Kind Of Dialectic Flow.

I’ll Always Deny That I Kissed Her. I Was Just Whispering Into Her Mouth.

Everything I Can't See / Is At Least As Real As What I Can.

And The Words We Find Are Always Insufficient, Like Love, Though They Are Often Lovely And All We Have.

Oh Abstractions Are Just Abstract Until They Have An Ache In Them.