For Me, Prose Walks, Poetry Dances.

Follow Your Own Weird.

The Only Limits Are, As Always, Those Of Vision.

We Are All Participants In The Marvelous.

Trusting Your Individual Uniqueness Challenges You To Lay Yourself Open.

Everything Is Song. Everything Is Silence. Since It All Turns Out To Be Illusion, Perfectly Being What It Is, Having Nothing To Do With Good Or Bad, You Are Free To Die Laughing.