Revision is not going back and fussing around, but going forward into the process of creation
Death does frame a person and somehow it is the good that stays.
Miracles cannot be explained, that is their miraculous nature.
My musical genius reached its apex thirty years ago when I played the triangle in Haydn's children's symphony, so I could not play unless you needed someone to make one sustained note!
It is clear that we do not exactly choose our poems; our poems choose us.
The gift turned inward, unable to be given, becomes a heavy burden, even sometimes a kind of poison. It is as though the flow of life were backed up.