You Say To Yourself, Well, This Poem

Some Men Live With An Invisible Limp, Stagger, Or Drag A Leg. Their Sons Are Often Angry.

You Have An Utterly Sincere Glance When You Look Around After You Are Shipwrecked. You Weep A Long Time On An Island When You Realize What's Happened To You.

Adulthood Has Something To Do With Not Choosing Any Of The Pure Points Of View, But Living About Half Of What You Really Want To Live.

If A Man, Cautious, Hides His Limp, Somebody Has To Limp It! Things Do It; The Surroundings Limp. House Walls Get Scars, The Car Breaks Down; Matter, In Drudgery, Takes It Up.

The Dead Made This World. We Didn't Make It. They Made The Poetry And The Songs And The Customs.