'tis The White Stag, Fame, We're A-hunting,

The Difference Between A Gun And A Tree Is A Difference Of Tempo. The Tree Explodes Every Spring.

Glance Is The Enemy Of Vision.

Properly, We Should Read For Power.

Poetry Is A Language Pared Down To Its Essentials.

One Discards Rhyme, Not Because One Is Incapable Of Rhyming Neat, Fleet, Sweet, Meet, Treat, Eat, Feet But Because There Are Certain Emotions Or Energies Which Are Nor Represented By The Over-familiar Devices Or Patterns.