Noon - is the Hinge of Day-.

God's little Blond Blessing we have long deemed you, and hope his so-called Will will not compel him to revoke you.

I felt a Cleaving in my Mind- As if my Brain had split- I tried to match it- Seam by Seam- But could not make it fit.

You cannot fold a flood and put it in a drawer, because the winds would find it out and tell your cedar floor.

The possible's slow fuse is lit by the Imagination.

There's a certain slant of light, On winter afternoons, That oppresses, like the weight Of cathedral tunes.

One step at a time is all it takes to get you there.