Writing Is Like The Relationship With Your

Both Poet And Painter Want To Reach The Silence Behind The Language, The Silence Within The Language. Both Painter And Poet Want Their Work To Shine Not Only In Daylight But (by Whatever Illusionist Magic) From Within.

This Constitutional Republic Called America Is An Historic Aberration. Any Honest Student Of History Will Note That The Prevailing Socio-economic System Is Feudalism, Where A Tiny Minority Control The Vast Majority Of Wealth, Power, And Resources. In Doing So, They Have Absolute Control Over The 99% Of The Population. Power Equals Control.

The Historian Is Terribly Responsible To What He Can Discern Are The Facts Of The Case, But He's Nothing If He Doesn't Make Out A Case.

Language Is Remarkable, Except Under The Extreme Constraints Of Mathematics And Logic, It Never Can Talk Only About What It's Supposed To Talk About But Is Always Spreading Around.

Till I, High In The Tower Of My Time Among Familiar Ruins, Began To Cry For Accident, Sickness, Justice, War And Crime, Because All Died, Because I Had To Die. The Snow Fell, The Trees Stood, The Promise Kept, And A Child I Slept.