... The Unarmed Power Of Naked Truth.

Poetry Is A Rich, Full-bodied Whistle, Cracked Ice Crunching In Pails, The Night That Numbs The Leaf, The Duel Of Two Nightingales, The Sweet Pea That Has Run Wild, Creation's Tears In Shoulder Blades.

But The Division In Him Was A Sorrow And A Torment, And He Became Accustomed To It Only As One Gets Used To An Unhealed And Frequently Reopened Wound.

At The Moment Of Childbirth, Every Woman Has The Same Aura Of Isolation, As Though She Were Abandoned, Alone.

As In An Explosion, I Would Erupt With All The Wonderful Things I Saw And Understood In This World.

In Life It Is More Necessary To Lose Than To Gain. A Seed Will Only Germinate If It Dies.