The People Know What The Land Knows.

The People Know What The Land Knows.

Not Often In The Story Of Mankind Does A Man Arrive On Earth Who Is Both Steel And Velvet, Who Is As Hard As Rock And Soft As Drifting Fog, Who Holds In His Heart And Mind The Paradox Of Terrible Storm And Peace Unspeakable And Perfect.

Poetry Is A Mystic, Sensuous Mathematics Of Fire, Smoke-stacks, Waffles, Pansies, People, And Purple Sunsets.

There Are Some People Who Can Receive A Truth By No Other Way Than To Have Their Understanding Shocked And Insulted.

I Cried Over Beautiful Things, Knowing No Beautiful Thing Lasts.