The Art Of Losing Isn't Hard To

Close, Close All Night The Lovers Keep. They Turn Together In Their Sleep, Close As Two Pages In A Book That Read Each Other In The Dark. Each Knows All The Other Knows, Learned By Heart From Head To Toes.

Bishop On "at The Fishhouses"at The Last Minute, After I'd Had A Chance To Do A Little Research In Cape Breton, I Foundi'd Said Codfish Scales Once When It Should Have Been Herring Scales. I Hope Theycorrected It All Right.2quite A Few Lines Of "at The Fishhouses" Came To Me In A Dream, And The Scene- Whichwas Real Enough, I'd Recently Been There-but The Old Man And The Conversation, Etc.,were All In A Later Dream

The Art Of Losing Isn't Hard To Master; So Many Things Seem Filled With The Intent To Be Lost That Their Loss Is No Disaster.

What One Seems To Want In Art, In Experiencing It, Is The Same Thing That Is Necessary For Its Creation, A Self-forgetful, Perfectly Useless Concentration.

Open The Book. (the Gilt Rubs Off The Edges Of The Pages And Pollinates The Fingertips.)