The poet Wallace Stevens argues that life is what one makes of it within the limitations of one’s own sensibility. That is precisely why I read, watch films, and meet people—I recognize the possible poverty of the way I experience life. The sentiment is captured in what I wrote on September 16, 1981: “Newcastle-on-Tyne. What lovely world exists within your beautiful head? How fortunate your background, creating a world of woods and ease. That I could erase my past and embrace you and yours.”
Here are links to a couple of Michele’s poems online:
http://portlandreview.org/silent-movie/
http://adirondackreview.homestead.com/Santamaria.html