You Have My Whole Heart. You Always

When I Came Into Your Life Your Life Was Over. It Had A Beginning, A Middle, And An End. This Is The End. You Can Say That Things Could Have Turned Out Differently. That They Could Have Been Some Other Way. But What Does That Mean? They Are Not Some Other Way. They Are This Way.

When One Has Nothing Left Make Ceremonies Out Of The Air And Breathe Upon Them.

The Freedom Of Birds Is An Insult To Me.

Creedless Shells Of Men Tottering Down The Causeways Like Migrants In A Feverland.

Peering Down Into The Water Where The Morning Sun Fashioned Wheels Of Light, Coronets Fanwise In Which Lay Trapped Each Twig, Each Grain Of Sediment, Long Flakes And Blades Of Light In The Dusty Water Sliding Away Like Optic Strobes Where Motes Sifted And Spun.