Behind All This, Some Great Happiness Is

From The Place Where We Are Right, Flowers Will Not Grow In The Spring.

I've Often Said That All Poetry Is Political. This Is Because Real Poems Deal With A Human Response To Reality And Politics Is Part Of Reality, History In The Making. Even If A Poet Writes About Sitting In A Glass House Drinking Tea, It Reflects Politics.

And As We Stray Further From Love, We Multiply The Words. Had We Remained Together We Could Have Become A Silence.

Tonight I Think Again Of Many Days That Are Sacrificed For One Night Of Love. Of The Waste And The Fruit Of The Waste, Of Plenty And Of Fire. And How Painlessly-time.

And I Said To Myself: That's True, Hope Needs To Be Like Barbed Wire To Keep Out Despair, Hope Must Be A Mine Field.