The Password Is A Flicker Of An

That's Why I Want To Speak To You Now. To Say: No Person, Trying To Take Responsibility For Her Or His Identity, Should Have To Be So Alone. There Must Be Those Among Whom We Can Sit Down And Weep, And Still Be Counted As Warriors. (i Make Up This Strange, Angry Packet For You, Threaded With Love.) I Think You Thought There Was No Such Place For You, And Perhaps There Was None Then, And Perhaps There Is None Now; But We Will Have To Make It, We Who Want An End To Suffering, Who Want To Change The Laws Of History, If We Are Not To Give Ourselves Away.

Until We Know The Assumptions In Which We Are Drenched, We Cannot Know Ourselves.

I've Known Great Happiness In My Life Along With Great Darkness, And A Question That Has Repeatedly Entered My Poetry Has Been, How Do We Use The Direct Experience Of Happiness That May Be Given Us, Whether Of Love And Sexuality Or Creativity Or The Sense Of Connectedness With Other Beings, Human And Otherwise?

To Read As If Your Life Depended On It Would Mean To Let Into Your Reading Your Beliefs, The Swirl Of Your Dreamlife, The Physical Sensations Of Your Ordinary Carnal Life; And Simultaneously, To Allow What You're Reading To Pierce Routines, Safe And Impermeable, In Which Ordinary Carnal Life Is Tracked, Charted, Channeled. Then, What Of The Right Answers, The So-called Multiple-choice Examination Sheet With The Number 2 Pencil To Mark One Choice And One Choice Only?

If I Cling To Circumstances I Could Feel Not Responsible. Only She Who Says She Did Not Choose, Is The Loser In The End.