I want to make poems that say right out, plainly,
what I mean, that don’t go looking for the
laces of elaboration, puffed sleeves.
I want to keep close and use often words like
heavy, heart, joy, soon, and to cherish
the question mark and her bold sister the dash.
I want to write with quiet hands.
I want to write while crossing the fields that are
fresh with daisies and everlasting and the ordinary grass.
I want to make poems while thinking of the bread of heaven
and the cup of astonishment;
let them be songs in which nothing is neglected,
not a hope, not a promise.
I want to make poems that look into the earth and the heavens
and see the unseeable.
I want them to honor both the heart of faith, and the light of the world;
the gladness that says, without any words, everything.
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