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I got to Henry's message re entering another world through the language in the poem which contains the reader. This suspension of belief in the extraneous seems to me to be at the centre of all art. I suppose it is what imagination is all about. I suppose this is a limitation of Derrida's view that nothing exists but the text because through it you can pass into a wonderful world. Wouldnt it be great if each of us in our lives could write just one such poem. But that would be asking a lot. Douglas Clark, Bath, England mailto: [log in to unmask] Lynx: Poetry from Bath .......... http://www.bath.ac.uk/~exxdgdc/lynx.html