Life Is Laughter Amid A Rosary Of

Everyone Understands The Pain That Accompanies Death, But Genuine Pain Doesn't Live In The Spirit, Nor In The Air, Nor In Our Lives, Nor On These Terraces Of Billowing Smoke. The Genuine Pain That Keeps Everything Awake Is A Tiny, Infinite Burn On The Innocent Eyes Of Other Systems.

A Poet Must Be A Professor Of The Five Senses And Must Open Doors Among Them.

The Bride, The White Bride Today A Maiden, Tomorrow A Wife.

The Poem, The Song, The Picture, Is Only Water Drawn From The Well Of The People, And It Should Be Given Back To Them In A Cup Of Beauty So That They May Drink - And In Drinking Understand Themselves.

Men Like To Pleasure Us, Girl. They Like To Undo Our Plaits And Give Us Water To Drink From Their Own Mouths. That's What Makes The World Go Round.