In Order To Write Poetry, You Must

Last Night As I Was Sleeping, I Dreamt - Marvellous Error! - That It Was God I Had Here Inside My Heart.

Wayfarer, The Only Way Is Your Footsteps, There Is No Other. Wayfarer, There Is No Way, You Make The Way As You Go. As You Go, You Make The Way And Stopping To Look Behind, You See The Path That Your Feet Will Never Travel Again. Wayfarer, There Is No Way- Only Foam Trails To The Sea.

The Afternoon Is Bright, With Spring In The Air, A Mild March Afternoon, With The Breath Of April Stirring, I Am Alone In The Quiet Patio Looking For Some Old Untried Illusion - Some Shadow On The Whiteness Of The Wall Some Memory Asleep On The Stone Rim Of The Fountain, Perhaps In The Air The Light Swish Of Some Trailing Gown.

In Order To Write Poetry, You Must First Invent A Poet Who Will Write It.

Traveler, There Is No Path, The Path Must Be Forged As You Walk.