I Write What's Given Me To Write.

You Have Begun To Separate The Dark From The Dark.

I Find You In These Tears, Few, Useless And Here At Last. Don't Come Back.

I Say, Father, The Years Have Brought Me Here, Still Your Son, They Have Brought Me To A Life I Cannot Understand.

I'm Seventy-one Now, So It's Hard To Imagine A Dramatic Change.

Meet Some People Who Care About Poetry The Way You Do. You'll Have That Readership. Keep Going Until You Know You're Doing Work That's Worthy. And Then See What Happens. That's My Advice.