Poetry Is A Mock Of A Cry

The Dead Hold In Their Hands Only What They Have Given Away.

Time Is The Coin Of Your Life. It Is The Only Coin You Have, And Only You Can Determine How It Will Be Spent. Be Careful Lest You Let Other People Spend It For You.

Poetry Is A Type-font Design For An Alphabet Of Fun, Hate, Love, Death.

I Have In Later Years Taken To Euclid, Whitehead, Bertrand Russell, In An Elemental Way.

Poetry Is Any Page From A Sketchbook Of Outlines Of A Doorknob With Thumb-prints Of Dust, Blood, Dreams.