Most People Have To Talk So They

People Who Cannot Feel Punish Those Who Do.

For Me A True Poem Is On The Way When I Begin To Be Haunted, When It Seems As If I Were Being Asked An Inescapable Question By An Angel With Whom I Must Wrestle To Get At The Answer.

And One Cold Starry Night / Whatever Your Belief / The Phoenix Will Take Flight / Over The Seas Of Grief / To Sing Her Thrilling Song / To Stars And Waves And Sky / For Neither Old Nor Young / The Phoenix Does Not Die.

Do We Always Make Our Freedom Out Of Someone Else's Bondage?

I Suppose Real Old Age Begins When One Looks Backward Rather Than Forward