A Liar Is A Liar And Lives

Poetry Is The Synthesis Of Hyacinths And Biscuits.

And All Poets Love Dust And Mist Because All The Last Answers. Go Running Back To Dust And Mist.

The Single Clenched Fist Lifted And Ready, Or The Open Asking Hand Held Out And Waiting. Choose: For We Meet By One Or The Other.

I Am Still Studying Verbs And The Mystery Of How They Connect Nouns. I Am More Suspicious Of Adjectives Than At Any Other Time In All My Born Days.

I Could Safely Declare, I Am An Idealist... I Believe In Everything - I Am Only Looking For Proofs.