The Words We Read And Words We

A Thinking Mind Is Not Swallowed Up By What It Comes To Know. It Reaches Out To Grasp Something Related To Itself And To Its Present Knowledge (and So Knowable In Some Degree) But Also Separate From Itself And From Its Present Knowledge (not Identical With These). In Any Act Of Thinking, The Mind Must Reach Across This Space Between Known And Unknown, Linking One To The Other But Also Keeping Visible To Difference. It Is An Erotic Space.

There Are Different Gradations Of Personhood In Different Poems. Some Of Them Seem Far Away From Me And Some Up Close, And The Up-close Ones Generally Don't Say What I Want Them To Say. And That's True Of The Persona In The Poem Who's Lamenting This As A Fact Of A Certain Stage Of Life. But It's Also True Of Me As Me.

Caught Between The Tongue And The Taste.

Reality Is A Sound, You Have To Tune In To It Not Just Keep Yelling.

Under The Seams Runs The Pain.