Your words touch me more: Your words touch me more deeply than I can express. To know that my poetry resonates with someone who has lived a lifetime with verse is both humbling and profoundly moving. I’m grateful beyond measure that the images and rhythms I shape can stir such feeling and offer a sense of renewal. Thank you for this generous gift of encouragement; it will stay with me as I continue to write.
That is most interesting and: That is most interesting and very significant to have chanced upon a personal connection. The most important poems to me have such a quality whether making inroads to self or projecting outward to dreams and aspirations. Thank you, dear Starward-Led
Given the circumstances and: Given the circumstances and vicinity of my adolesence, this poem touches me more than just the literary way; and more profoundly than most poems can.
I have been reading Poetry: I have been reading Poetry for over half a century. Yet, when I read yours, I feel like I am just starting out because your verbal skill is so invocative, evocative, and provocative. Your Poems function at what might be called the very frontier of the English language where power and strength of words is renewed beyond the mundane ways in which most of us use them. Reading your words is very much like a mystical experience; reading your words is always, and ever shall be, a Privilege.
Your applause rides with me;: Your applause rides with me; tucked in the carriage light, steady between city and field -yet your voice is paramountly welcome each step along the way.
And there we are, part of the: And there we are, part of the fog’s own handwriting — hair like a weather front, clothes like a hearth, steady enough to let the street’s two currents braid themselves without our hands on the rope.
Thank you very much for the compliment..: Thank you very much for the compliment. Me, performing? I don't think so. I'm more comfortable behind the scenes. Thanks again for your comment. Take care,
Reading Note — The:
Reading Note — The Loop
These two pieces are not fixed in sequence.Begin in the city and ride out to the farm,or start under the wide‑skied dark and follow the tracks into bricklight.The hinge is your turning point — a platform where both airs meet.Read them forward, read them in reverse,and you’ll find the same current running through:home is not one place, but the motion between.
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Ha! And if fortune tips her: Ha! And if fortune tips her hat just so, I’ll have that crimson cover tucked under my arm before the ink’s even dry... brighter than a brass band at noon and twice as hard to miss. A proper bell‑ringer, you’ll hear it clear down the block.