There Is An Eagle In Me That

Poetry Is A Search For Syllables To Shoot At The Barriers Of The Unknown And The Unknowable.

The Past Is A Bucket Of Ashes

If The Facts Are Against You, Argue The Law. If The Law Is Against You, Argue The Facts. If The Law And The Facts Are Against You, Pound The Table And Yell Like Hell

Poetry Is An Enumeration Of Birds, Bees, Babies, Butterflies, Bugs, Bambinos, Babayagas, And Bipeds, Beating Their Way Up Bewildering Bastions.

Drum On Your Drums, Batter On Your Banjos, Sob On The Long Cool Winding Saxophones. Go To It, O Jazzmen.