A Man Moves Through Time. It Means

There Are Different Gradations Of Personhood In Different Poems. Some Of Them Seem Far Away From Me And Some Up Close, And The Up-close Ones Generally Don't Say What I Want Them To Say. And That's True Of The Persona In The Poem Who's Lamenting This As A Fact Of A Certain Stage Of Life. But It's Also True Of Me As Me.

The Words We Read And Words We Write Never Say Exactly What We Mean. The People We Love Are Never Just As We Desire Them. The Two Symbola Never Perfectly Match. Eros Is In Between.

Making Is Always A Slightly Hopeful Thing Because Once You've Made Something, It'll - The World Will Be Different.

We Humans Seem Disastrously In Love With This Thing (whatever It Is) That Glitters On The Earth-- We Call It Life.

Philosophers Say Man Forms Himself In Dialogue.