Maybe Hobo is to Henry as "Henry" is to Berryman. They might start dancing around in a circle soon. There's something of each of them in the others.

Lately writing poems feels very much like sailing a small boat through mist & fog, near a shoreline, or islands. I have my primitive compass, boat, rudder & sail - that is, the basic themes (more like perpetual problems) I keep obsessing about. & I have only the vaguest idea where I'm headed (though I try very hard to discover that). But as long as I keep working at it - & it is work of a sort - then unexpected little details of sea- & landscape tend to crop up.

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