I Defer To All These Other American

A Poem Is Energy Transferred From Where The Poet Got It (he Will Have Some Several Causations), By Way Of The Poem Itself To, All The Way Over To, The Reader.

What Does Not Change Is The Will To Change

One Loves Only Form, And Form Only Comes Into Existence When The Thing Is Born.

I Have Had To Learn The Simplest Things Last. Which Made For Difficulties.

This Morning Of The Small Snow I Count The Blessings, The Leak In The Faucet Which Makes Of The Sink Time, The Drop Of The Water On Water.