There is a grace of life which is still yours, my dear Europe.

I don't live for poetry. I live far more than anybody else does.

I defer to all these other American poets who, for some reason, I both envy and admire.

I take space to be the central fact to man born in America. I spell it large because it comes large here. Large and without mercy.

Atlantis will rise again.

O.K. I'm running out of appetite. Let this swirl- a bit like Crab Nebula- do for now.

Whatever you have to say, leave The roots on, let them Dangle And the dirt Just to make clear Where they come from.