Hope Is An Echo, Hope Ties Itself

What If They Gave A War And Nobody Came?

If [america] Forgets Where She Came From, If The People Lose Sight Of What Brought Them Along, If She Listens To The Deniers And Mockers, Then Will Begin The Rot And Dissolution.

Poetry Is A Dance Music Measuring Buck-and-wing Follies Along With The Gravest And Stateliest Dead-marches.

The Wind Bit Hard At Valley Forge One Christmas. Soldiers Tied Rags On Their Feet. Red Footprints Wrote On The Snow...

Poetry Is The Capture Of A Picture, A Song, Or A Flair, In A Deliberate Prism Of Words.