And I Walked, I Walked Through The

And Soon A Branch, Part Of A Hidden Scene,the Leafy Mind, That Long Was Tightly Furled,will Turn Its Private Substance Into Green,and Young Shoots Spread Upon Our Inner World.

The Soul Has Many Motions, Body One.

Pain Wanders Through My Bones Like A Lost Fire

To Follow The Drops Sliding From A Lifting Oar, Head Up, While The Rower Breathes, And The Small Boat Drifts Quietly Shoreward.

Should We Say The Self, Once Perceived, Becomes The Soul?