Poetry: Three Mismatched Shoes At The Entrance

If I Believe In Anything, It Is In The Dark Night Of The Soul. Awe Is My Religion, And Mystery Is Its Church.

Wanted: A Needle Swift Enough To Sew This Poem Into A Blanket.

Poetry Is An Orphan Of Silence. The Words Never Quite Equal The Experience Behind Them.

Silence Is The Only Language God Speaks.

Making Art In America Is About Saving One's Soul.