It Is, I Assume, Quite Easy To

Read Between The Lines.then Meet Me In The Silence If You Can.

Poems Like To Have A Destination For Their Flight. They Are Homing Pigeons.

If I Were To Choose One Single Thing That That Would Restore Paris To The Senses, It Would Be That Strangely Sweet, Unhealthy Smell Of The Métro, So Very Unlike The Dank Cold Or The Stuffy Heat Of Subways In New York.

Poetry Has A Way Of Teaching One What One Needs To Know ... If One Is Honest.

Human Relations Just Are Not Fixed In Their Orbits Like The Planets -- They're More Like Galaxies, Changing All The Time, Exploding Into Light For Years, Then Dying Away.