Prompted by a line from a poem by Wyn Cooper

"The stars have fallen onto the sheets, fallen down to sleep with me."

Lines from poems scroll continuously through me. Beginning at dawn, when I wake up, and throughout the day, lines from poems come to me, recite themselves silently in my head, in my voice, like song refrains spoken not sung.

Without poetry I would be a lost person. It's these remembered lines and fragments that translate the wildness of my heart and make it bearable. Corral the inner chaos.

Without poetry I might have to set ...