Come Clean With A Child Heart Laugh

Let The Gentle Bush Dig Its Root Deep And Spread Upward To Split The Boulder.

Poetry Is A Dance Music Measuring Buck-and-wing Follies Along With The Gravest And Stateliest Dead-marches.

In These Times You Have To Be An Optimist To Open Your Eyes When You Awake In The Morning.

Poetry Is A Shuffling Of Boxes Of Illusions Buckled With A Strap Of Facts.

Tell Him Solitude Is Creative If He Is Strong And The Final Decisions Are Made In Silent Rooms. Tell Him To Be Different From Other People If It Comes Natural And Easy Being Different. Let Him Have Lazy Days Seeking His Deeper Motives. Let Him Seek Deep For Where He Is A Born Natural. Then He May Understand Shakespeare And The Wright Brothers, Pasteur, Pavlov, Michael Faraday And Free Imaginations Bringing Changes Into A World Resenting Change. He Will Be Lonely Enough To Have Time For The Work He Knows As His Own.