I Think That Passion If

There Is A Wilder Solitude In Winter When Every Sense Is Pricked Alive And Keen.

For To Be Desperate Is To Discover Strength. / We Die Of Comfort And By Conflict Live.

She Became For Me An Island Of Light, Fun, Wisdom Where I Could Run With My Discoveries And Torments And Hopes At Any Time Of Day And Find Welcome.

For Me The Moral Dilemma This Past Year Has Been How To Make Peace With The Unacceptable.

Poetry Is A Dangerous Profession Between Conflict And Resolution, Between Feeling And Thought, Between Becoming And Being, Between The Ultra-personal And The Universal - And These Balances Are Shifting All The Time.