Perhaps Poetry Will Be The Canary In

I Will Find That Special Person Who Is Wrong For Me In Just The Right Way.

I Have Always Intended To Live Forever; But Not Until Now, To Live Now.

This One Whom Habit Of Memory Propels To The Ground Of His Making, Sleeper Only The Mortal Sounds Can Sing Awake, This Blessing Love Gives Again Into Our Arms.

The Bud Stands For All Things, Even For Those Things That Don't Flower

Goodbye, You Who Are, For Me, The Postmarks Again Of Shattered Towns--xenia, Burnt Cabins, Hornell-- Their Loneliness Given Away In Poems, Only Their Solitude Kept.