I Have Committed The Worst Of Sins

I Know Of One Semibarbarous Zone Whose Librarians Repudiate The "vain And Superstitious Habit" Of Trying To Find Sense In Books, Equating Such A Quest With Attempting To Find Meaning In Dreams Or In The Chaotic Lines On The Palms Of One's Hand.

Being With You And Not Being With You Is The Only Way I Have To Measure Time.

Poetry Springs From Something Deeper; It's Beyond Intelligence.

The Word Happiness Exists In Every Language; It Is Plausible The Thing Itself Exists.

Beyond My Anxiety, Beyond This Writing, The Universe Waits, Inexhaustible, Inviting.