The Only Certain Freedom's In Departure.

Don't Join Too Many Gangs. Join Few If Any. Join The United States And Join The Family- But Not Much In Between Unless A College.

A Poem Begins As A Lump In The Throat, A Sense Of Wrong, A Homesickness, A Lovesickness.

Now No Joy But Lacks Salt That Is Not Dashed With Pain And Weariness And Fault; I Crave The Stain Of Tears, The Aftermark Of Almost Too Much Love, The Sweet Of Bitter Bark And Burning Clove.

What Are We? Young Or New? We Must Be Something.

Never Discuss The Poem You Contemplate Writing. It's Like Turning On The Outside Spigot. It Takes All The Pressure Off The Upstairs Bathroom.