The First Step In The Journey Is

Go So Deep Into Yourself, You Speak For Everyone.

Perhaps Poetry Will Be The Canary In The Mine-shaft Warning Us Of What's To Come.

Little Sleep's-head Sprouting Hair In The Moonlight, When I Come Back We Will Go Out Together, We Will Walk Out Together Among, The Ten Thousand Things, Each Scratched Too Late With Such Knowledge, The Wages Of Dying Is Love.

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.

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