He Is Exactly The Poem I Wanted

For Poems Are Not Words, After All, But Fires For The Cold, Ropes Let Down To The Lost, Something As Necessary As Bread In The Pockets Of The Hungry.

A Lifetime Isn't Long Enough For The Beauty Of This World And The Responsibilities Of Your Life.

The Stars Began To Burn Through The Sheets Of Clouds, And There Was A New Voice Which You Slowly Recognized As Your Own.

The Face Of The Moose Is As Sad As The Face Of Jesus.

All My Life I Have Been Restless-- I Have Felt There Is Something More Wonderful Than Gloss-- Than Wholeness-- Than Staying At Home.