Love, How Many Roads To Obtain A

Pale Blind Diver, Luckless Slinger, Lost Discoverer, In You Everything Sank!

In The Distance Someone Is Singing.

Maybe Someone Will Know I Didn't Weave Crowns To Draw Blood; That I Faught Against Mockery; That I Did Fill The High Tide Of My Soul With Truth. I Repaid Vileness With Doves.

Who Do I Belong To? How Come I Mortgaged My Being Till I Don't Belong To Myself? How Come I Sold My Blood? And Who Now Owns My Indecisions, My Hands, My Private Pain, My Pride?

The Typewriter Separated Me From A Deeper Intimacy With Poetry, And My Hand Brought Me Closer To That Intimacy Again.