I Lose And Find Myself In The

You Must Believe: A Poem Is A Holy Thing - A Good Poem, That Is. The Poem, Even A Short Time After Being Written, Seems No Miracle; Unwritten, It Seems Something Beyond The Capacity Of The Gods.

The Darkness Has It's Own Light.

I Long For The Imperishable Quiet At The Heart Of Form.

But When I Breath With The Birds, The Spirit Of Wrath Becomes The Spirit Of Blessings, And The Dead Begin From Their Dark To Sing In My Sleep.

The Self Says, I Am; The Heart Says, I Am Less; The Spirit Says, You Are Nothing.