There is no stroke like the ambiguous air.
The bear rolls over and goes to sleep like a grown man.
I stay awake and listen.
Ignorance is as powerful as the moon.
It makes the tides move.
It moves the shore.
I hear the dark things done against trees
rattle like the names of lost slaves.
For example, I hear my daughter grow.
They are must conquer thyself.
Is that a difficult thing to do?
I am a painter prime in the years following
mercy instead of the dark and limited wilderness outside.
Yeah, something about that voice that gives me the willies
makes me feel like I'm 70.
But it's a voice that I feel I have no choice about.
I'm beginning to develop a theory on it.
Maybe tell you about the theory.
Let me see if I can change the tone.
I'd like to read a couple of poems that I feel a love poems.
From the second section of the book,
that goes with the statement.
The inscription for the section is this is the meal equally set
disappears appears.
This is the meat of natural hunger.
It's from leaves of grass by Walt Whitman.
I think I use that one more so than anything else
for the American study scholars.
But I think it really has a lot to say
about love and its complexity.