I Wasn't Afraid Of Being Poor; I

It Hurts To Love Wide Open Stretching The Muscles... It Hurts To Thwart The Reflexes Of Grab, Of Clutch; To Love And Let Go Again And Again.

Shared Laughter Is Erotic Too.

We May Be Losing The Ability To Understand Animals Who Are Not Pets Or Horses. We Have Less Contact With Them. We Don't (most Of Us) Tend To Know Even Cows And Pigs, Let Alone Bears Or Wolverines Or Red Tailed Hawks.

We Admire Predators - Panthers, Lions, Tigers, Even Wolves. Maybe To Be Naturally Thoughtful And Hesitant To Use Violence Is To Be Somehow Second Rate. To Be In The Middle Of The Social Food Chain. Especially If You're A Man. This Society Thinks Real Men Are Violent.

The Mind Wraps Itself Around A Poem. It Is Almost Sensual, Particularly If You Work On A Computer. You Can Turn The Poem Round And About And Upside Down, Dancing With It A Kind Of Bolero Of Two Snakes Twisting And Coiling, Until The Poem Has Found Its Right And Proper Shape.