I Start Off But I Don't Know

Perhaps Poetry Will Be The Canary In The Mine-shaft Warning Us Of What's To Come.

Sometimes It Is Necessary To Reteach A Thing Its Loveliness

The First Step... Shall Be To Lose The Way.

Second-hand Gloves Will Become Lovely Again, Their Memories Are What Give Them The Need For Other Hands. And The Desolation Of Lovers Is The Same: That Enormous Emptiness Carved Out Of Such Tiny Beings As We Are Asks To Be Filled; The Need For The New Love Is Faithfulness To The Old.

This One Whom Habit Of Memory Propels To The Ground Of His Making, Sleeper Only The Mortal Sounds Can Sing Awake, This Blessing Love Gives Again Into Our Arms.