May Summer Last A Hundred Years.

Travel Releases Spontaneity. You Become A Godlike Creature Full Or Choice, Free To Visit The Stately Pleasure Domes, Make Love In The Morning, Sketch A Bell Tower, Read A History Of Byzantium, Stare For One Hour At The Face Of Leonardo Da Vinci's 'madonna Dei Fusi.' You Open, As In Childhood, And--for A Time--receive This World. There's Visceral Aspect, Too--the Huntress Who Is Free. Free To Go, Free To Return Home Bringing Memories To Lay On The Hearth.

It’s Daunting To Find The Language So Foreign, So Distant, But Also So Thrilling. One Is Absolved Of Responsibility When The Language Is Incomprehensible.

I Would Like The Discovery Of Poetry To Be A Field Guide To The Natural Pleasures Of Language - A Happiness We Were Born To Have.

I Was Born And Grew Up In Fitzgerald, Way Down In South Georgia. It Was A Mill Town And My Family Ran The Cotton Mill. My Grandfather Was Mayor Many Times And My Family Felt Deeply Rooted To That Spot.

Italy's Siren Call Lures Us More And More.