If You Dont [sic] Say What You

Jumping From Boulder To Boulder And Never Falling, With A Heavy Pack, Is Easier Than It Sounds; You Just Can't Fall When You Get Into The Rhythm Of The Dance.

At Night In This Part Of The West The Stars, As I Had Seen Them In Wyoming, Were As Big As Roman Candles And As Lonely As The Prince Who's Lost His Ancestral Home And Journeys Across The Spaces Trying To Find It Again, And Knows He Never Will.

There Are Worse Things Than Being Mad.

La Is The Loneliest And Most Brutal Of American Cities.

If You Dont [sic] Say What You Want, What's The Sense Of Writing?