I wrote were contrapuntals to the lines spun reckless of scientific inquiry and self-inquiry wonderment and— I'd been following.obsession. There was a way, I saw, into existence, to turn all of it—edgewise, inspirit an unlikely echo, louder than I thought was possible. In a poem, my reflection (speaker) touches palms with the boglight description of who I mean to become. Being—an exact science:urgency. Yet with poetry I remind myself of how I desire—fold into one thing, and then another folds, not just into art, but meeting somehow into a life.at the weathered crease of awe.