Knowledge Of Peace Passes From

A Flock Of Sheep Near The Airport Or A High Voltage Generator Beside The Orchard: These Combinations Open Up My Life Like A Wound, But They Also Heal It. That's Why My Feelings Always Come In Twos.

It Was Not An Adventure; It Was My Life.

Tonight I Think Again Of Many Days That Are Sacrificed For One Night Of Love. Of The Waste And The Fruit Of The Waste, Of Plenty And Of Fire. And How Painlessly-time.

Knowledge Of Peace Passes From Country To Country, Like Children's Games, Which Are So Much Alike, Everywhere.

I've Often Said That All Poetry Is Political. This Is Because Real Poems Deal With A Human Response To Reality And Politics Is Part Of Reality, History In The Making. Even If A Poet Writes About Sitting In A Glass House Drinking Tea, It Reflects Politics.