I'm not sure why my inconsistencies and ambivalences are such a worry to you. They aren't, particularly, to me. More of a curiosity, really. I can't explain myself, can't justify my thinking, even--perhaps especially--when it fits no rational pattern or philosophical truth. I'm a poet, for God's sake. Always have been. I just put down words, one after the other, without trying to deal out wisdom, even when they contradict each other. You ask questions for which I have no answers, with references that are beyond my understanding. I have no way of satisfying the hunger you project to corral me into some convenient cattle chute. If I seem to be clueless, it's because I am! Sorry! Here's a poem for you. Consider it the source of all the wisdom you mistakenly ascribe to me! I have always loved it. Perhaps you're familiar with it. If not, enjoy.
It was sent with admiration and affection for a mind quite different from my own. Sometimes I wish I could understand all this. Mostly, though, I'm just caught in the muddle of it all, and do my best to pay attention to the experiences that come my way. Best to all...!