Poetry Is An Orphan Of Silence.

There Are People Who Live Inside Their Heads And Their Intellects. It's Something One Is Born With And Stuck With. It's Not Something You Make A Decision About.

The Highest Levels Of Consciousness Are Wordless.

The Plain Truth Is We Are Going To Die. Here I Am, A Teeny Spec Surrounded By Boundless Space And Time, Arguing With The Whole Of Creation, Shaking My Fist, Sputtering, Growing Even Eloquent At Times, And Then-poof! I Am Gone. Swept Off Once And For All. I Think That Is Very, Very Funny.

When You Play Chess Alone It's Always Your Move.

I Was Already Dozing Off In The Shade, Dreaming That The Rustling Trees Were My Many Selves Explaining Themselves All At The Same Time So That I Could Not Make Out A Single Word. My Life Was A Beautiful Mystery On The Verge Of Understanding, Always On The Verge! Think Of It!