An Expert Is A Damn Fool A

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

Poetry Is A Plan For A Slit In The Face Of A Bronze Fountain Goat And The Path Of Fresh Drinking Water.

Poetry Is A Phantom Script Telling How Rainbows Are Made And Why They Go Away.

Always The Path Of American Destiny Has Been Into The Unknown. Always There Arose Enough Reserves Of Strength, Balances Of Sanity, Portions Of Wisdom To Carry The Nation Through To A Fresh Start With Ever-renewing Vitality.

There Are Ten Men In Me And I Do Not Know Or Understand One Of Them.