The Joy Of The Young Is To

The Poet Doesn't Invent. He Listens.

There Is Always A Period When A Man With A Beard Shaves It Off. This Period Does Not Last. He Returns Headlong To His Beard.

The Only Way To Kill Death Is Through Photography.

Find First, Seek Later.

Every Poem Is A Coat Of Arms. It Must Be Deciphered. How Much Blood, How Many Tears In Exchange For These Axes, These Muzzles, These Unicorns, These Torches, These Towers, These Martlets, These Seedlings Of Stars And These Fields Of Blue!