Exists No Miracle Mightier Than This: To

Somewhere I Have Never Travelled, Gladly Beyond

Now The Ears Of My Ears Awake And Now The Eyes Of My Eyes Are Opened.

May My Heart Always Be Open To Little Birds Who Are The Secrets Of Living

The Other Guineahen Died Of A Broken Heart And We Came To New York. I Used To Sit At A Table,drawing Wings With A Pencil That Kept Breaking And I Kept Remembering How Your Mind Looked When It Slept For Several Years,to Wake Up Asking Why. So Then You Turned Into A Photograph Of Somebody Who’s Trying Not To Laugh At Somebody Who’s Trying Not To Cry

Somewhere I Have Never Traveled, Gladly Beyond Any Experience, Your Eyes Have Their Silence; In Your Most Frail Gesture Are Things Which Enclose Me, Or Which I Cannot Touch Because They Are Too Near