I Climb, I Backtrack. I Float. I

When It's Over I Don't Want To Wonder If I Have Made Of My Life Something Particular, And Real.

What Can We Do But Keep On Breathing In And Out, Modest And Willing, And In Our Places?

Sing, If You Can Sing, And It Not Still Be Musical Inside Yourself.

The Challenge Is To Keep Up With All The New Poets At The Same Time I Love The Old Ones.

Though I Play At The Edges Of Knowing, Truly I Know Our Part Is Not Knowing, But Looking, And Touching, And Loving