The Canadian Voice Is Still Too Rustic.

Forgive Me If I Sleep Until I Wake Up.

The Poem, For Me, Is Simply The First Sound Realized In The Modality Of Being.

One Loves Only Form, And Form Only Comes Into Existence When The Thing Is Born.

I Have Had To Learn The Simplest Things Last. Which Made For Difficulties.

There Is A Grace Of Life Which Is Still Yours, My Dear Europe.