What Makes The Engine Go?

I Dance/for The Joy Of Surviving, At The Edge Of The Road.

Darling, Do You Remember The Man You Married? Touch Me, Remind Me Who I Am.

You Must Be Careful Not To Deprive The Poem Of Its Wild Origin.

The Supreme Morality Of Art Is To Endure.

I Have Walked Through Many Lives, Some Of Them My Own, And I Am Not Who I Was, Though Some Principle Of Being Abides, From Which I Struggle Not To Stray.