What is an adjective? Nouns name the world. Verbs activate the names. Adjectives come from somewhere else. The word adjective (epitheton in Greek) is itself an adjective meaning 'placed on top', 'added', 'appended', 'foreign'. Adjectives seem fairly innocent additions, but look again. These small imported mechanisms are in charge of attaching everything in the world to its place in particularity. They are the latches of being.

Give me a world, you have taken the world I was.

A refugee population is hungry for language and aware that anything can happen.

Meanwhile music pounded / across hearts opening every valve to the desperate drama of being / a self in a song.

Could you visit me in dreams? That would cheer me. Sweet to see friends in the night, however short the time.

[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.

He came after Homer and before Gertrude Stein, a difficult interval for a poet.