I Find That In A Novel I

Outcast On A Cold Star, Unable To Feel Anything But An Awful Helpless Numbness. I Look Down Into The Warm, Earthy World. Into A Nest Of Lovers' Beds, Baby Cribs, Meal Tables, All The Solid Commerce Of Life In This Earth, And Feel Apart, Enclosed In A Wall Of Glass.

When They Asked Me What I Wanted To Be I Said I Didn't Know.

Love, Love, I Have Hung Our Cave With Roses.

That Is Salvation. To Give Of Love Inside. To Keep Love Of Life, No Matter What, And Give To Others. Generously.

As A Poet, One Lives A Bit On Air. I Always Like Someone Who Can Teach Me Something Practical.