Poetry is:
the first breath and the last,
and everything in between
every future, every past,
and language put to dreams
It’s when a soul escapes a man,
if only for a time
and with that moment finds a mate,
and writhes around its mind,
when God spoke life into the earth,
t’was poems on His lips,
in rhythm man did rise in in mirth,
in forms did Christ we kiss
(104 d...
