A World Is To Be Fought For,

The Universe Is Made Of Stories, Not Of Atoms.

Slowly I Would Get To Pen And Paper, Make My Poems For Others Unseen And Unborn. In The Day I Would Be Reminded Of Those Men And Women, Brave, Setting Up Signals Across Vast Distances, Considering A Nameless Way Of Living, Of Almost Unimagined Values.

Flight Is Intolerable Contradiction.

I Lived In The First Century Of World Wars. Most Mornings I Would Be More Or Less Insane.

What Would Happen If One Woman Told The Truth About Her Life? The World Would Split Open.