Live In A Perpetual Great Astonishment.

To Follow The Drops Sliding From A Lifting Oar, Head Up, While The Rower Breathes, And The Small Boat Drifts Quietly Shoreward.

Those Who Are Willing To Be Vulnerable Move Among Mysteries.

The Poet: Would Rather Eat A Heart Than A Hambone.

I Bleed My Bones, Their Marrow To Bestowupon That God Who Knows What I Would Know.

But When I Breath With The Birds, The Spirit Of Wrath Becomes The Spirit Of Blessings, And The Dead Begin From Their Dark To Sing In My Sleep.