The music is in minors.
It is brave to be involved
Do not desire to fit in. Desire to oblige yourselves to lead.
And if sun comes / How shall we greet him? / Shall we not dread him, / Shall we not fear him / After so lengthy a / Session with shade?
Books are meat and medicine and flame and flight and flower steel, stitch, cloud and clout, and drumbeats on the air.
I tell poets that when a line just floats into your head, don't pay attention 'cause it probably has floated into somebody else's head.