If you can bring nothing to this place but your carcass, keep out. <b>(Dedication for a Plot of Ground)</b> - William Carlos Williams

I think of the poetry of René Char and all he must have seen and suffered that has brought him to speak only of sedgy rivers, of daffodils and tulips whose roots they water, even to the free-flowing river that laves the rootlets of those sweet-scented flowers that people the milky way

It lives as pictures only can : by their power TO ESCAPE ILLUSION and stand between man and nature as saints once stood between man and the sky...

To hell with everything I myself have ever written.