... The Real Heroes Of Race And

I Still Have Everything You Gave Me It Is Dusty On The Edges. It Is Slightly Rotten. I Guard It Without Thinking. I Focus On It Once A Year When I Shake It Out In The Wind. I Do Not Ache. I Would Not Trade.

I Do Think That All Of Us Think In Poems.

The Thousands Small Birds Of January In Their Smooth Soaring Cloud Finding The Trees.

As A Direct Line To Human Feeling, Empathic Experience, Genuine Language And Detail, Poetry Is Everything That Headline News Is Not. It Takes Us Inside Situations, Helps Us Imagine Life From More Than One Perspective, Honors Imagery And Metaphor - Those Great Tools Of Thought - And Deepens Our Confidence In A Meaningful World.

A Poem Is A Cup Of Words Open To The Sky And Wind In A Bucket.