“ ‘I am going blind and soon I will no longer be able to see. But what I saw and what I felt never mattered and the eye that looks out at you will be gone. My eyes and my poems and my art do not matter—not in a world where nothing can matter.
‘You’re every street I’ve ever walked. You’re the tree outside my window, you’re a sparrow as he flies. You’re the book that I am reading. You’re every poem I’ve ever loved.’