Poetry Is, Above All, An Approach To

All The Poems Of Our Lives Are Not Yet Made.

Nourish Beginnings, Let Us Nourish Beginnings. Not All Things Are Blest, But The Seeds Of All Things Are Blest. The Blessing Is In The Seed.

Slowly I Would Get To Pen And Paper, Make My Poems For Others Unseen And Unborn. In The Day I Would Be Reminded Of Those Men And Women, Brave, Setting Up Signals Across Vast Distances, Considering A Nameless Way Of Living, Of Almost Unimagined Values.

Flight Is Intolerable Contradiction.

I Am Haunted By Interrupted Acts, Introspective As A Leper, Enchanted By A Repulsive Clew, A Gross And Fugitive Movement Of The Limbs. Is This The Love That Shook The Lights To Flame?