Very few people really see things unless they've had someone in early life who made them look at things. And name them too. But the looking is primary, the focus.

I like to find what's not found at once, but lies within something of another nature, in repose, distinct.

The poem has a social effect of some kind whether or not the poet wills it to have. It has a kenetic force, it sets in motion...elements in the reader that would otherwise remain stagnant.

But for us the road unfurls itself, we don't stop walking, we know there is far to go.

What I heard was my whole self saying and singing what it knew: I can.

In the dark I rest, unready for the light which dawns day after day, eager to be shared. Black silk, shelter me. I need more of the night before I open eyes and heart to illumination. I must still grow in the dark like a root not ready, not ready at all.

Every day, every day I hear enough to fill a year of nights with wondering.