Art Is Our Defense Against Hysteria And

You Must Believe A Poem Is A Holy Thing, A Good Poem, That Is.

Beginnings Start Without Shade,thinner Than Minnows.the Live Grass Whirls With The Sun,feet Run Over The Simple Stones,there's Time Enough.behold, In The Lout's Eye, Love.

The Self Says, I Am; The Heart Says, I Am Less; The Spirit Says, You Are Nothing.

Love Begets Love. This Torment Is My Joy.

By Daily Dying, I Have Come To Be.