I Used To Get Criticized For Putting

The Days Are Stacked Against What We Think We Are.

Wherever We Go We Do Harm, Forgiving Ourselves As Wheels Do Cement For Wearing Each Other Out. We Set This House On Fire, Forgetting That We Live Within. (from "to A Meadowlark," For M.l. Smoker)

Naturally We Would Prefer Seven Epiphanies A Day And An Earth Not So Apparently Devoid Of Angels.

That Is Simply The Most Beautiful Publishing Office In The World, With That Cranky Old Building In That Wonderful Park.

I'm Not Rational Enough To Be A Good Journalist.