I Write To Find Out

You Can't Get Too Much Winter In The Winter.

Far In The Pillared Dark Thrush Music Went- Almost Like A Call To Come In To The Dark And Lament. But No, I Was Out For Stars: I Would Not Come In. I Meant Not Even If Asked, And I Hadn't Been.

Some Spirit To Stand Simply Forth, Heroic In Its Nakedness, Against The Uttermost Of Earth.

A Poet Must Never Make A Statement Simply Because It Sounds Poetically Exciting; He Must Also Believe It To Be True." - W. H. Auden "a Poem...begins As A Lump In The Throat, A Sense Of Wrong, A Homesickness, A Lovesickness...it Finds The Thought And The Thought Finds The Words.

But I Have Promises To Keep, And Miles To Go Before I Sleep, And Miles To Go Before I Sleep.