I have realized the relationship between the reader and the poet:
One must not leave out too much or there will be danger.
We speak of the poet’s duty, and that it mingles with art.
This craft is an illusion when images float on psychic energy.
Peter Blue Cloud who came traipsing in with winter crows in the hour of Coyote could not be found in an intellectual shroud.
Summer 1984, Iowa City, Iowa