The fields stretch out in long unbroken rows. We walk aware of what is far and close. Here distance is familiar as a friend. The feud we kept with space comes to an end.

I am overwhelmed by the beautiful disorder of poetry, the eternal virginity of words.

So much of adolescence is an ill-defined dying, An intolerable waiting, A longing for another place and time, Another condition.

The damage of teaching: the constant contact with the undeveloped.

I wish I could find an event that meant as much as simple seeing.

I came where the river Ran over stones; My ears knew An early joy. And all the waters Of all the streams Sang in my veins That summer day.

I lose and find myself in the long water. I am gathered together once more.