I Didn't Choose Poetry: Poetry Chose Me.

Uncontradicting Solitude Supports Me On Its Giant Palm; And Like A Sea-anemone Or Simple Snail, There Cautiously Unfolds, Emerges, What I Am.

But O, Photography! As No Art Is, Faithful And Disappointing!

I Never Think Of Poetry Or The Poetry Scene, Only Separate Poems Written By Individuals.

Walk With The Dead For Fear Of Death.

It Becomes Still More Difficult To Find
words At Once True And Kind,
or Not Untrue And Not Unkind.