O Love, Where Are You Leading Me

Comes The Time When It's Later And Onto Your Table The Headwaiter Puts The Bill

O Love, Where Are You Leading Me Now?

The Pattern Of The Narrative Never Of Necessity Wants To End, It Never Has To.

I Don’t Think Any Man Writing Can Worry About What The Act Of Writing Costs Him, Even Though At Times He Is Very Aware Of It.

Still, No One Finally Knows What A Poet Is Supposed Either To Be Or To Do. Especially In This Country, One Takes On The Job—because All That One Does In America Is Considered A "job"—with No Clear Sense As To What Is Required Or Where One Will Ultimately Be Led. In That Respect, It Is As Particular An Instance Of A "calling" As One Might Point To. For Years I've Kept In Mind, "many Are Called But Few Are Chosen." Even So "called," There Were No Assurances That One Would Be Answered.