Poetry Is Only Secondarily About Words. Primarily,

She Had Always Felt That The Essence Of Human Experience Lay Not Primarily In The Peak Experiences, The Wedding Days And Triumphs Which Stood Out In The Memory Like Dates Circled In Red On Old Calendars, But, Rather, In The Unself-conscious Flow Of Little Things - The Weekend Afternoon With Each Member Of The Family Engaged In His Or Her Own Pursuit, Their Crossings And Connections Casual, Dialogues Imminently Forgettable, But The Sum Of Such Hours Creating A Synergy Which Was Important And Eternal.

Once Upon A Time ... The Only Autonomous Intelligences We Humans Knew Of Were Us Humans. We Thought Then That If Humankind Ever Devised Another Intelligence That It Would Be The Result Of A Huge Project ... A Great Mass Of Silicon And Ancient Transistors And Chips And Circuit Boards ... A Machine With Lots Of Networking Circuits, In Other Words, Aping-if You Will Pardon The Expression-the Human Brain In Form And Function. Of Course, Ais Did Not Evolve That Way. They Sort Of Slipped Into Existence When We Humans Were Looking The Other Way.

The Beauty Of That June Day Was Almost Staggering. After The Wet Spring, Everything That Could Turn Green Had Outdone Itself In Greenness And Everything That Could Even Dream Of Blooming Or Blossoming Was In Bloom And Blossom. The Sunlight Was A Benediction. The Breezes Were So Caressingly Soft And Intimate On The Skin As To Be Embarrassing.

Seduction... Was Both A Science And Art - A Blend Of Skill, Discipline, Proximity, And Opportunity. Mostly Proximity.

In Twentieth-century Old Earth, A Fast Food Chain Took Dead Cow Meat, Fried It In Grease, Added Carcinogens, Wrapped It In Petroleum-based Foam, And Sold Nine Hundred Billion Units. Human Beings. Go Figure.