A Man May Be Born, But In

It Is The Business Of Little Minds To Shrink.

Poetry: A Sliver Of The Moon Lost In The Belly Of A Golden Frog.

And How Should A Beautiful, Ignorant Stream Of Water Know It Heads For An Early Release — Out Across The Desert, Running Toward The Gulf, Below Sea Level, To Murmur Its Lullaby, And See The Imperial Valley Rise Out Of Burning Sand With Cotton Blossoms, Wheat, Watermelons, Roses, How Should It Know?

I Glory In This World Of Men And Women, Torn With Troubles, Yet Living On To Love And Laugh Through It All.

Tell No Man Anything, For No Man Listens Yet Hold Thy Lips Ready To Speak.