[…] Thesepoems are as heartless as birdsong, as unmeantas elm leaves, which if they love love onlythe wide blue sky and the air and the ideaof elm leaves. Self-love is an ending, she said,and not a beginning. Love means loveof the thing sung, not of the song or the singing.These poems, she said….You are, he said,beautiful.That is not love, she said rightly.
– from Robert Bringhust’s “These Poems, She Said”
also from Traci