This Whole Moment Is The Groin Of

Will Occur As Time Grows More Open About It.

I Listen To Music A Great Deal. In A Way, It's Trying To Express Things That Can't Be Expressed In Words. That's Something That Interests Me, Too. Even Though I Use Words To Express Myself, I Am Trying To, It Seems To Me, Get Beyond That.

The Poem Is Sad Because It Wants To Be Yours, And Cannot Be.

One Can Lose A Good Idea By Not Writing It Down, Yet By Losing It One Can Have It: It Nourishes Other Asides It Knows Nothing Of, Would Not Recognize Itself In, Yet When The Negotiations Are Terminated, Speaks In The Acts Of That Progenitor, And Does Recognize Itself, Is Grateful For Not Having Done So Earlier.

Where Then Shall Hope And Fear Their Objects Find?