In a dark hour I was marooned. The howls woke me after just a few minutes sleep. Wherever light was, wherever truth was, that's where I was thinking about writing about truth. There are no exceptions to the possibility of getting burned on the way in. The road is easier to find than you think but woe to the one who finds it and just ambles.
Let me say it another way. Let me have my tea and drink it as well. The organist stumbled coming out of the choir loft and her daughter had a sudden idea for a hymn. Let's go to the record store and get ourselves a date. This poem (that prom?) must include a cornet.
A hornet stole my wedding ring. There's disillusionment at work, a proposition bound to failure. We marched all day until we reached the temple only to find that it was closed for renovations. A war can't begin if the other side stays home. Hearts pour forth their wisdom, angels fall to their knees.
Some people are harder to please than others. We studied the shore line, intent on finding the perfect stone. So I'm not the prize catch I once was (said the Tuna with his hand-carved cane). We begin (and end) where everyone else does. Your dulcet voice, your bloodied knuckles.