Poetry Is A Way Of Looking At

Send Me Out Into Another Life Lord Because This One Is Growing Faint I Do Not Think It Goes All The Way

Sitting Over Words Very Late I Have Heard A Kind Of Whispered Sighing Not Far Like A Night Wind In Pines Or Like The Sea In The Dark The Echo Of Everything That Has Ever Been Spoken Still Spinning Its One Syllable Between The Earth And Silence.

I Will Take With Me The Emptiness Of My Hands. What You Do Not Have You Find Everywhere

Separation Your Absence Has Gone Through Me Like Thread Through A Needle. Everything I Do Is Stitched With Its Color.

So This Is What I Am Pondering His Eyes That Could Not Conceive That I Was A Creature To Run From I Who Have Always Believed Too Much In Words