Love Each Other Or Perish.

Art Is Born Of Humiliation.

A Poet's Hope: To Be, Like Some Valley Cheese, Local, But Prized Elsewhere.

Nobody Is Ever Sent To Hell: He Or She Insists On Going There.

I'll Love You Till The Ocean Is Folded And Hung Up To Dry And The Seven Stars Go Squawking Like Geese About The Sky.

A Poet Is, Before Anything Else, A Person Who Is Passionately In Love With Language.