Those Of Us Who Make Up Poems

The Candle Is Not Lit To Give Light, But To Testify To The Night.

The Inner Boy In A Messed-up Family May Keep On Being Shamed, Invaded, Disappointed, And Paralyzed For Years And Years. "i Am A Victim," He Says, Over And Over; And He Is. But That Very Identification With Victimhood Keeps The Soul House Open And Available For Still More Invasions. Most American Men Today Do Not Have Enough Awakened Or Living Warriors Inside To Defend Their Soul Houses. And Most People, Men Or Women, Do Not Know What Genuine Outward Or Inward Warriors Would Look Like, Or Feel Like.

We Did Not Come To Remain Whole. We Came To Lose Our Leaves Like The Trees, Trees That Start Again.

I Want Nothing From You But To See You.

Reclaiming The Sacred In Our Lives Naturally Brings Us Close Once More To The Wellsprings Of Poetry.