Were All Moving, Moving, Moving. Isnt It

O.k. I'm Running Out Of Appetite. Let This Swirl- A Bit Like Crab Nebula- Do For Now.

This Morning Of The Small Snow I Count The Blessings, The Leak In The Faucet Which Makes Of The Sink Time, The Drop Of The Water On Water.

Love Is Form, And Cannot Be Without Important Substance

Of Rhythm Is Image / Of Image Is Knowing / Of Knowing There Is / A Construct

Whatever You Have To Say, Leave The Roots On, Let Them Dangle And The Dirt Just To Make Clear Where They Come From.