To Be Running Breathlessly, But Not Yet

Making Is Always A Slightly Hopeful Thing Because Once You've Made Something, It'll - The World Will Be Different.

[short Talk On Sylvia Plath] Did You See Her Mother On Television? She Said Plain, Burned Things. She Said I Thought It An Excellent Poem But It Hurt Me. She Did Not Say Jungle Fear. She Did Not Say Jungle Hatred Wild Jungle Weeping Chop It Back Chop It. She Said Self-government She Said End Of The Road. She Did Not Say Humming In The Middle Of The Air What You Came For Chop.

I Do Think That Something Of The Effect I Have On People Is To Put Everything On An Edge Where They're Both Infatuated With A Kind Of Charmingness Happening In The Person Or In The Writing, And Also Flatly Terrified By A Revelation Or Acceptance Of Revelation That's Almost Happening, Never Quite Totally Happening.

I Mean, Every Thought Starts Over, So Every Expression Of A Thought Has To Do The Same. Every Accuracy Has To Be Invented... I Feel I Am Blundering In Concepts Too Fine For Me.

All Myth Is An Enriched Pattern, A Two-faced Proposition, Allowing Its Operator To Say One Thing And Mean Another, To Lead A Double Life. Hence The Notion Found Early In Ancient Thought That All Poets Are Liars. And From The True Lies Of Poetry Trickled Out A Question. What Really Connects Words And Things?