We All Have A Hungry Heart, And

Look, Hasn't My Body Already Felt Like The Body Of A Flower?

You Do Not Have To Be Good. You Do Not Have To Walk On Your Knees For A Hundred Miles Through The Desert, Repenting. You Only Have To Let The Soft Animal Of Your Body Love What It Loves.

One Day You Finally Knew What You Had To Do, And Began.

You Must Not Ever Stop Being Whimsical. And You Must Not, Ever, Give Anyone Else The Responsibility For Your Life.

A Poet's Interest In Craft Never Fades, Of Course.