I Am Often Asked Why I Write,

The Summer Demands And Takes Away Too Much. /but Night, The Reserved, The Reticent, Gives More Than It Takes

You Stupefied Me. We Waxed, Carnivores, Late And Alight In The Beaded Winter. All Was Ominous, Luminous.

Will Occur As Time Grows More Open About It.

The Poem Is Sad Because It Wants To Be Yours, And Cannot Be.

Once You've Lived In France, You Don't Want To Live Anywhere Else, Including France.