A Great Poet Does Not Express His

There Are Those Who Love To Get Dirty And Fix Things. They Drink Coffee At Dawn, Beer After Work. And Those Who Stay Clean, Just Appreciate Things. At Breakfast They Have Milk And Juice At Night. There Are Those Who Do Both, They Drink Tea.

What Is Any Religion? A Little Ritual, A Little Superstition, And Some Magic. It's Not A Strictly Spiritual Affair; It Has Psychological Roles To Fulfill. You Might Not Want It To Be A Religion Based On Your Own Experience But That's Like Wanting To Clean Up Your Dreams

The Other Side Of The "sacred" Is The Sight Of Your Beloved In The Underworld, Dripping With Maggots.

Lay Down These Words Before Your Mind Like Rocks. Placed Solid, By Hands In Choice Of Place, Set Before The Body Of The Mind In Space And Time: Solidity Of Bark, Leaf, Or Wall Riprap Of Things: Cobble Of Milky Way. Straying Planets, These Poems, People, Lost Ponies With Dragging Saddles -- And Rocky Sure-foot Trails. The Worlds Like An Endless Four-dimensional Game Of Go. Ants And Pebbles In The Thin Loam, Each Rock A Word A Creek-washed Stone Granite: Ingrained With Torment Of Fire And Weight Crystal And Sediment Linked Hot All Change, In Thoughts, As Well As Things.

Walking Is The Exact Balance Between Spirit And Humility.