Love Is A Tree; And Lovers Are

Someone Who Goes With A Half A Loaf Of Bread To A Small Place That Fits Like A Nest Around Him, Someone Who Wants No More, Who Is Not Himself Longed For By Anyone Else. He Is A Letter To Everyone. You Open It. It Says, Live.

I Am In The House Of Mercy, And My Heart Is A Place Of Prayer.

Love Is A Madman, Working His Wild Schemes, Tearing Off His Clothes, Running Through The Mountains...

Listen To Presences Inside Poems, Let Them Take You Where They Will. Follow Those Private Hints, And Never Leave The Premises.

Love Is The Soul's Light, The Taste Of Morning, No Me, No We, No Claim Of Being.