Time Is A Sandpile We Run Our

Nothing Happens Unless First We Dream.

The Machine Yes The Machine Never Wastes Anybody's Time Never Watches The Foreman Never Talks Back.

What Of The Wright Boys In Dayton? Just Around The Corner They Had A Shop And Did A Bicycle Business-and They Wanted To Fly For The Sake Of Flying. They Were Man The Seeker, Man On A Quest. Money Was Their Last Thought, Their Final Absent-minded Idea. They Threw Out A Lot Of Old Mistaken Measurements And Figured New Ones That Stood Up When They Took Off And Held The Air And Steered A Course. They Proved That "the Faster You Go The Less Power You Need."

Under The Harvest Moon, When The Soft Silver Drips Shimmering Over The Garden Nights, Death, The Gray Mocker, Comes And Whispers To You As A Beautiful Friend Who Remembers.

Poetry Is A Slipknot Tightened Around A Time-beat Of One Thought, Two Thoughts, And A Last Interweaving Thought There Is Not Yet A Number For.