My Father Died When I Was Five,

I'm Afraid We Live At The Mercy Of A Power, Maybe A God, Without Mercy. And Yet We Find It, As I Have, From Others.

How Weightless/ Words Are When Nothing Will Do.

You Have Begun To Separate The Dark From The Dark.

I Believed Even Then That If I Could Transform My Experience Into Poetry I Would Give It The Value And Dignity It Did Not Begin To Possess On Its Own. I Thought Too That If I Could Write About It I Could Come To Understand It; I Believed That If I Could Understand My Life—or At Least The Part My Work Played In It—i Could Embrace It With Some Degree Of Joy, An Element Conspicuously Missing From My Life.

Listen To These Young Poets And You'll Discover The Voice Of The Present And Hear The Voice Of The Future Before The Future Is Even Here.