There is nothing to save, now all is lost,
but a tiny core of stillness in the heart
like the eye of a violet.

One's action ought to come out of an achieved stillness: not to be mere rushing on.

When along the pavement,
Palpitating flames of life,
People flicker around me,
I forget my bereavement,
The gap in the great constellation,
The place where a star used to be

I cried until my eyes swelled shut, and then I slept, a black, dreamless sleep from which I awoke amazingly refreshed, at least until I remembered.

"I froze before the keyboard. I couldn't think of a damn thing to say. No poems, no prose, no words. The pain cannot even be alchemized into art, into words, into something you can chalk up to an interesting experience because the pain itself, its intensity, is so great that it has woven itself into your system so deeply that there is no way to objectify it or push it outside or find its beauty within."

You had an initial depression after John Kerry's loss, but now people are more energized and people are starting to look toward presidential candidates. Donors are as motivated now as I've ever seen them.