You Can't Photograph Everything.

Strange Now To Think Of You, Gone Without Corsets & Eyes, While I Walk On The Sunny Pavement Of Greenwich Village. Downtown Manhattan, Clear Winter Noon, And I've Been Up All Night, Talking, Talking, Reading The Kaddish Aloud, Listening To Ray Charles Blues Shout Blind On The Phonograph

I Had A Moment Of Clarity, Saw The Feeling In The Heart Of Things, Walked Out To The Garden Crying.

When It Snows In Your Nose, You Catch Cold In Your Brain.

A Poem Is Like A Radio That Can Broadcast Continuously For Thousands Of Years.

None Of Us Understand What We're Doing, But We Do Beautiful Things Anyway.