Now That I Am Dead, I Know

In The Spring, At The End Of The Day, You Should Smell Like Dirt.

I Became A Poet At The Age Of Sixteen. I Did Not Intend To Do It. It Was Not My Fault.

This Is The Solstice, The Still Point Of The Sun, Its Cusp And Midnight, The Year's Threshold And Unlocking, Where The Past Lets Go Of And Becomes The Future; The Place Of Caught Breath.

There's Nothing Like A Shovel Full Of Dirt To Encourage Literacy.

Writing Poetry Is A State Of Free Float.