Sometimes see the deeper caves beyond the fog with fighting or there’s something I must penetrate to make it clear. There are times when I can’t bear to remove my glasses or to close my eyes. There are ends of every infinity, it seems. I fought, I found, am able to hold (what strength I need), as the valley reaches around up to me, that valley is all valleys, that way I see this one and feel it a valley in a poem I wrote long ago, I know, I have known the blue distanced mountains, the birds flying, the fields of flowers, the birth of a cloud, and the sun, the hand of God, the eternal changing, held. I could go into in toward the boat, there the soul image that rushes that breaks (hot) the feeling into sharpness apart the fog for the sun for the wind blowing over the broken dirt a plowed field, the spirit alive and mine, the deeper cave.
June 1971