Let The Light Be Called Day So

It Would Be Pleasant To Be Drunk.

Being Kissed On The Back Of The Knee Is A Moth At The Windowscreen.

The Windows, The Starving Windows That Drive The Trees Like Nails Into My Heart.

Not That It Was Beautiful, But That I Found Some Order There.

I Keep Feeling That There Isn't One Poem Being Written By Any One Of Us - Or A Book Or Anything Like That. The Whole Life Of Us Writers, The Whole Product I Guess I Mean, Is The One Long Poem - A Community Effort If You Will. It's All The Same Poem. It Doesn't Belong To Any One Writer - It's God's Poem Perhaps. Or God's People's Poem.