I take the walk to be the externalization of an interior seeking so that the analogy is first of all between the external and the internal.

Is it not careless to become too local when there are four hundred billion stars in our galaxy alone.

You have your identity when you find out, not what you can keep your mind ON, but what you can't keep your mind OFF.

If the greatest god is the stillness all the motions add up to, then we must ineluctably be included.

The white sun like a moth on a string circles the southpole.

With the first step, the number of shapes the walk might take is infinite, but then the walk begins to define itself as it goes along, though freedom remains total with each step: any tempting side road can be turned into an impulse, or any wild patch of woods can be explored. The pattern of the walk is to come true, is to be recognized, discovered.

I am grateful for - though I can't keep up with - the flood of articles, theses, and textbooks that mean to share insight concerning the nature of poetry.