We Are Great Writers On The Same

You Too Must Seek The Sun.

I Had A Moment Of Clarity, Saw The Feeling In The Heart Of Things, Walked Out To The Garden Crying.

The Apparition Of An Evil, Sick Unconscious Wild City Rose Before Me In Visible Semblance, And About The Dead Buildings In The Barren Air, The Bodies Of The Soul That Built The Wonderland Shuffled And Stalked And Stalked And Lurched In Attitudes Of Immemorial Nightmare All Around.

Truth Is Dissent, Where All Power Resides In The Big Lie.

A Poem Is Like A Radio That Can Broadcast Continuously For Thousands Of Years.