There are things you can’t reach. But You can reach out to them, and all day long. The wind, the bird flying away. The idea of god. And it can keep you busy as anything else, and happier. I look; morning to night I am never done with looking. Looking I mean not just standing around, but standing around As though with your arms open.

A poet's interest in craft never fades, of course.

You are young. So you know everything. You leap into the boat and begin rowing. But, listen to me. Without fanfare, without embarrassment, without doubt,I talk directly to your soul. Listen to me.

One day you finally knew what you had to do, and began.

Also I wanted to be able to love And we all know how that one goes, don't we? Slowly

I held my breath as we do sometimes to stop time when something wonderful has touched us.

Walks work for me. I enter some arena that is neither conscious or unconscious.