Your Absence Has Gone Through Me

My Cradle Was A Shoe.

So This Is What I Am Pondering His Eyes That Could Not Conceive That I Was A Creature To Run From I Who Have Always Believed Too Much In Words

Any Work Of Art Makes One Very Simple Demand On Anyone Who Genuinely Wants To Get In Touch With It. And That Is To Stop. You've Got To Stop What You're Doing, What You're Thinking, And What You're Expecting And Just Be There For The Poem For However Long It Takes.

After An Age Of Leaves And Feathers Someone Dead Thought Of The Mountain As Money And Cut The Trees That Were Here And The Wind And The Rain At Night. It Is Hard To Say It.

You Grieve Not That Heaven Does Not Exist But That It Exists Without Us