Length Is Usually Intensity. Not Time.

She May Know A Little, May Think Of Herself, Face And Body, As ‘pretty’…but He Could Never Tell Her All The Rest, How Many Other Living Things, Birds, Nights Smelling Of Grass And Rain, Sunlit Moments Of Simple Peace, Also Gather In What She Is To Him.

Ills Are Many, Blessings Few, But Dreams Tonight Will Shelter You.

My Belief Is That "recluse" Is A Code Word Generated By Journalists... Meaning, "doesn't Like To Talk To Reporters."

Some Of Us Are Afraid Of Dying; Others Of Human Loneliness. Profane Was Afraid Of Land Or Seascapes Like This, Where Nothing Else Lived But Himself.

What Are The Stars But Points In The Body Of God Where We Insert The Healing Needles Of Our Terror And Longing?