We Are Blessed And Sustained By What

I Wasn't Born Of A Whistle Or Milked From A Thistle At Twilight No I Was All Horns And Thorns Sprung Out Fully Formed, Knock-kneed And Upright.

And All That We Built, And All That We Breathed And All That We Spilled Or Pulled Up Like Weeds Is Piled Up In Back And It Burns Irrevocably And We Spoke Up In Turns 'til The Silence Crept Over Me.

The So-called Positive Press Has In Some Ways Been More Difficult To Swallow Than The Negative.

The Way That Words Fit Together Is Always Interesting To Me. I Love Words.

I Never Thought People Would Be Mortally Offended By The Sounds I Was Making.