A Barn With Cattle And Horses Is

Every Christmas Should Begin With The Sound Of Bells, And When I Was A Child Mine Always Did. But They Were Sleigh Bells, Not Church Bells, For We Lived In A Part Of Cedar Rapids, Iowa, Where There Were No Churches.

Writing Is Rewriting What You Have Rewritten.

For My Oxford Degree, I Had To Translate French And German Philosophy (as It Turned Out, Descartes And Kant) At Sight Without A Dictionary. That Meant Germany For My First Summer Vacation, To Learn The Thorny Language On My Own.

I Grew Up In The Prolonged Survival Of The Great Age Of The Horse, With Harness And Saddle And Sleigh Bells And Horse Pictures, Not As Antiques But The Facts Of Our Lives.

All Poetry Is An Ordered Voice, One Which Tries To Tell You About A Vision In The Un-visionary Language Of Farm, City, And Love.