Pain Wanders Through My Bones Like A

I Am Overwhelmed By The Beautiful Disorder Of Poetry, The Eternal Virginity Of Words.

I Can Hear, Underground, That Sucking And Sobbing, In My Veins, In My Bones I Feel It,- The Small Water Seeping Upward, The Tight Grains Parting At Last. When Sprouts Break Out, Slippery As Fish, I Quail, Lean To Beginnings, Sheath-wet.

Nothing Would Give Up Life: Even The Dirt Keeps Breathing A Small Breath.

I Learn By Going Where I Have To Go.

How Terrible The Need For God.