How shall I describe my reaction–the process of the unfolding of my reaction, or reactions, plural, one reaction leading into or setting off the next–my reactions to reading through your journal? I'm not sure I can–I can't describe the experience in such a way that boxes it into a picture, a narrative . . . Clearly you are writing in this Moleskined space from a deep interiority, one not meant to be translated. I [see] a lot of attention paid to the primacy of intuition–a heightened even excruciating attention–excruciatingly necessary. Or Unavoidably–as to focus one's attention on the process of intuition, while to attempt to let intuition remain one's drive, simultaneously, can be so dangerous–attention, that kind of attention, can kill that precious thing. But this is what poets do.
–Note from Joseph Bradshaw, 2009
It's a wonder to imagine
how one might stop for death
& the wheels reinvention of feathers
what plumes the mind to tell
Stories of anything.