The Heart That Gives, Gathers.

The Irish Say Your Trouble Is Their Trouble And Your Joy Their Joy? I Wish I Could Believe It; I Am Troubled, I'm Dissatisfied, I'm Irish.

I Never 'plan' A Stanza. Words Cluster Like Chromosomes, Determining The Procedure.

Maine Should Be Pleased That Its Animal Is Not A Waverer, And Rather Than Fight, Lets The Primed Quill Fall. Shallow Oppressor, Intruder, Insister, You Have Found A Resister.

What I Write Could Only Be Called Poetry Because There Is No Other Category To Put It.

I See No Reason For Calling My Work Poetry Except That There Is No Other Category In Which To Put It.