Strange, It Is A Huge Nothing That

Smile As You Find A Rhythm Working You, Slow Mile By Mile, Into Your Proper Haunt.

On The Contrary, A Trust In The Staying Power And Travel-worthiness Of Such Good Should Encourage Us To Credit The Possibility Of A World Where Respect For The Validity Of Every Tradition Will Issue In The Creation And Maintenance Of A Salubrious Political Space.

Im A Firm Believer In Learning By Heart.

Anything Can Happen Is Also, Incidentally, A Poem That Arose From Teaching. I'd Talked About The Horace Ode (i, 34) [on Which The Poem Is Based] In A Lecture I Gave At Harvard In The Fall Of 2000 Entitled Bright Boltsand Remembered It After The Twin Towers Attack.

Now It’s High Watermark And Floodtide In The Heart And Time To Go. The Sea-nymphs In The Spray Will Be The Chorus Now. What’s Left To Say? Suspect Too Much Sweet-talk But Never Close Your Mind. It Was A Fortunate Wind That Blew Me Here. I Leave Half-ready To Believe That A Crippled Trust Might Walk And The Half-true Rhyme Is Love.