The Cynics In Life Are The People

We Call Them The Brave Who Likely Were Reluctant To Be Brave.

I See No Reason For Calling My Work Poetry Except That There Is No Other Category In Which To Put It.

There Is A Great Amount Of Poetry In Unconscious Fastidiousness.

Poetry Is The Art Of Creating Imaginary Gardens With Real Toads.

I, Too, Dislike It. Reading It, However, With A Perfect Contempt For It, One Discovers In It, After All, A Place For The Genuine.