Well, While I'm Here I'll

So The Problem For The Poetic Artist Or The Photographer Is The Common Problem Of Continuous Attentiveness, Continuous Attempts To Notice What He Is Noticing, Continuous Alertness To Catch Himself Thinking Or Seeing, Devotional Attentiveness To The World He's Moving Through.

My Books Piled Up Before Me For My Use Waiting In Space Where I Placed Them, They Haven't Disappeared, Time's Left Its Remnants And Qualities For Me To Use -- My Words Piled Up, My Texts, My Manuscripts, My Loves.

The Real America That Whitman Proclaimed And Thoreau Decoded.

The Only Thing That Can Save The World Is The Reclaiming Of The Awareness Of The World. That's What Poetry Does. By Poetry I Mean The Imagining Of What Has Been Lost And What Can Be Found - The Imagining Of Who We Are And The Slow Realization Of It.

When It Snows In Your Nose, You Catch Cold In Your Brain.