You Are Who You Choose

The World's Decay Where The Wind's Hands Have Passed, And My Head, Worn Out With Love, At Rest In My Hands, And My Hands Full Of Dust.

As Popa Penetrates Deeper Into His Life, With Book After Book, It Begins To Look Like A Universe Passing Through A Universe. It Is One Of The Most Exciting Things In Modern Poetry, To Watch This Journey Being Made.

Do As You Like With Me. I'm Your Parcel. I Have Only Our Address On Me. Open Me, Or Readdress Me.

Prose, Narratives, Etcetera, Can Carry Healing. Poetry Does It More Intensely.

I Shall Also Take You Forth And Carve Our Names Together In A Yew Tree, Haloed With Stars.