Perhaps poetry will be the canary in the mine-shaft warning us of what's to come.
Sometimes it is necessary To reteach a thing its loveliness
Little sleep's-head sprouting hair in the moonlight, when I come back we will go out together, we will walk out together among, the ten thousand things, each scratched too late with such knowledge, the wages of dying is love.
Let our scars fall in love.
Go so deep into yourself, you speak for everyone.
It is necessary to reteach a thing its loveliness, to put a hand on its brow of the flower and retell it in words and in touch it is lovely until it flowers again from within, of self-blessing.