Every Morning I Walk Like This Around

Don't We All Die Someday And Someday Comes All Too Soon? What Will You Do With Your Own Wild, Glorious Chance At This Thing We Call Life.

Poetry Isn't A Profession, It's A Way Of Life. It's An Empty Basket; You Put Your Life Into It And Make Something Out Of That.

Keep Some Room In Your Heart For The Unimaginable.

When Loneliness Comes Stalking, Go Into The Fields, Consider The Orderliness Of The World.

Though I Play At The Edges Of Knowing, Truly I Know Our Part Is Not Knowing, But Looking, And Touching, And Loving