Knowledge Is The Harvest Of

One Loves Only Form, And Form Only Comes Into Existence When The Thing Is Born.

This Morning Of The Small Snow I Count The Blessings, The Leak In The Faucet Which Makes Of The Sink Time, The Drop Of The Water On Water.

I Take Space To Be The Central Fact To Man Born In America. I Spell It Large Because It Comes Large Here. Large And Without Mercy.

I Don't Live For Poetry. I Live Far More Than Anybody Else Does.

Love Is Form, And Cannot Be Without Important Substance