Poetry Is A Way Of Looking At

Every Year Without Knowing It I Have Passed The Day When The Last Fires Will Wave To Me

We're Losing A Species Every Few Seconds. We Cannot Put Them Back. If We Change Our Mind And Say, 'oops, We Made A Mistake' - It's Too Late. This Is The World We Live With.

I Needed My Mistakes In Their Order To Get Me Here

The Story Of Each Stone Leads Back To A Mountain.

To Say What Or Where We Came From Has Nothing To Do With What Or Where We Came From. We Do Not Come From There Any More, But Only From Each Word That Proceeds Out Of The Mouth Of The Unnamed. And Yet Sometimes It Is Our Only Way Of Pointing To Who We Are.