I Have With Me All That I

I Say To My Breath Once Again, Little Breath Come From In Front Of Me, Go Away Behind Me, Row Me Quietly Now, As Far As You Can, For I Am An Abyss That I Am Trying To Cross.

Modern Poetry, For Me, Began Not In English At All But In Spanish, In The Poems Of Lorca.

I Had Hardly Begun To Read I Asked How Can You Ever Be Sure That What You Write Is Really Any Good At All And He Said You Can't You Can't You Can Never Be Sure You Die Without Knowing Whether Anything You Wrote Was Any Good If You Have To Be Sure Don't Write

What I Really Believe Is The Only Hopeful Relation Between Our Life And The Whole Of Life Is One Of Reverence And Respect And Of Feeling At One With It. The Other Attitude Which Is The One Our Society Is Based On Is Devastating And It Is Killing The Earth And It Is Killing Us Too.

After An Age Of Leaves And Feathers Someone Dead Thought Of The Mountain As Money And Cut The Trees That Were Here And The Wind And The Rain At Night. It Is Hard To Say It.