Your Poems Will Happen When No One

For Poetry Exists To Break Through To Below The Level Of Reason Where The Angels And Monsters That The Amenities Keep In The Cellar May Come Out To Dance, To Rove And Roar, Growling And Singing, To Bring Life Back To The Enclosed Rooms Where Too Often We Are Only 'living And Partly Living.

True Power Is Given To The Vulnerable.

Poetry Finds Its Perilous Equilibrium Somewhere Between Music And Speech.

We Are All Jellyfish, Too Pitiful And Too Afraid Of Being Disliked To Be Honest.

Old Age Is Not An Illness, It Is A Timeless Ascent. As Power Diminishes, We Grow Toward The Light.