Poetry Is A Diary Kept By A

There Is An Eagle In Me That Wants To Soar.

Poetry Is A Sequence Of Dots And Dashes, Spelling Depths, Crypts, Cross-lights, And Moon Wisps.

Poetry Is A Shuffling Of Boxes Of Illusions Buckled With A Strap Of Facts.

I Doubt If You Can Have A Truly Wild Party Without Liquor.

Yesterday And Tomorrow Cross And Mix On The Skyline. The Two Are Lost In A Purple Haze. One Forgets, One Waits.