America, I've Given You All And Now

So The Problem For The Poetic Artist Or The Photographer Is The Common Problem Of Continuous Attentiveness, Continuous Attempts To Notice What He Is Noticing, Continuous Alertness To Catch Himself Thinking Or Seeing, Devotional Attentiveness To The World He's Moving Through.

Breathe When You Breathe. Walk Where You Walk. Talk When You Talk. Cry When You Cry. Die When You Die. Let Go When You Let Go.

You Can't Escape The Past In Paris, And Yet What's So Wonderful About It Is That The Past And Present Intermingle So Intangibly That It Doesn't Seem To Burden.

Who’ll Come Lie Down In The Dark With Me Belly To Belly And Knee To Knee Who’ll Look Into My Hooded Eye Who’ll Lie Down Under My Darkened Thigh?

Poetry Is Not An Expression Of The Party Line. It's That Time Of Night, Lying In Bed, Thinking What You Really Think, Making The Private World Public, That's What The Poet Does.