Forgive, O Lord, my little jokes on Thee, and I'll forgive Thy great big joke on me.

A poem begins with a lump in the throat; a homesickness or a love sickness. It is a reaching-out toward expression; an effort to find fulfillment. A complete poem is one where an emotion has found its thought and the thought has found words.

There are few sorrows, however poignant, in which a good income is of no avail.

Nature's first green is gold, Her hardest hue to hold. Her early leaf's a flower; But only so an hour. Then leaf subsides to leaf. So Eden sank to grief, So dawn goes down to day. Nothing gold can stay.

Unless you are educated in metaphor, you are not safe to be let loose in the world.

Lovers, forget your love And list to the love of these She a window flower And he a winter breeze.

Poetry is about the grief. Politics is about the grievance.