Writing Or Making Anything-a Poem, A Bird

The Older I Get, The More I Feel.

It Is Forbidden To Love Where We Are Not Loved

A Family Is A Mystery.

I Was A Late Bloomer. But Anyone Who Blooms At All, Ever, Is Very Lucky.

.. To A Poet, The Human Community Is Like The Community Of Birds To A Bird, Singing To Each Other. Love Is One Of The Reasons We Are Singing To One Another, Love Of Language Itself, Love Of Sound, Love Of Singing Itself, And Love Of The Other Birds.