Poetry Is An Echo, Asking A Shadow

Come Clean With A Child Heart Laugh As Peaches In The Summer Wind Let Rain On A House Roof Be A Song Let The Writing On Your Face Be A Smell Of Apple Orchards On Late June.

It Is The Business Of Little Minds To Shrink.

We Read Robert Browning's Poetry. Here We Needed No Guidance From The Professor: The Poems Themselves Were Enough.

Two Bubbles Found They Had Rainbows On Their Curves. They Flickered Out Saying: "it Was Worth Being A Bubble, Just To Have Held That Rainbow Thirty Seconds.

Poetry Is A Plan For A Slit In The Face Of A Bronze Fountain Goat And The Path Of Fresh Drinking Water.