I Cannot Walk An Inch / Without

The Little Girl Skipped By Under The Wrinkled Oak Leaves And Held Fast To A Replica Of Herself.

To Love Another Is Somethinglike Prayer And It Can't Be Planned, You Just Fallinto Its Arms Because Your Belief Undoes Your Disbelief.

I Put The Gold Star Up In The Front Window Beside The Flag. Alterations Is What I Know And What I Did: Hems, Gussets And Seams.

Craft Is A Trick You Make Up To Let You Write The Poem.

I Keep Feeling That There Isn't One Poem Being Written By Any One Of Us - Or A Book Or Anything Like That. The Whole Life Of Us Writers, The Whole Product I Guess I Mean, Is The One Long Poem - A Community Effort If You Will. It's All The Same Poem. It Doesn't Belong To Any One Writer - It's God's Poem Perhaps. Or God's People's Poem.