A Hero Is Someone Who Rebels, Or

Indians Scattered On Dawn's Highway Bleeding/ghosts Crowd The Young Child's Fragile Eggshell Mind.

[...] My Wild Words Slip Into Fusion And Risk Losing The Solid Ground. So Stranger, Get Wilder Still. Probe The Highlands.

Guileless And Without Vanity, We Were Still In Love With Ourselves Then. We Felt Comfortable In Our Skins, Enjoyed The News That Our Senses Released To Us, Admired Our Dirt, Cultivated Our Scars, And Could Not Comprehend This Unworthiness. Jealousy We Understood And Thought Natural--a Desire To Have What Somebody Else Had; But Envy Was A Strange, New Feeling For Us.

I See Myself As An Intelligent, Sensitive Human, With The Soul Of A Clown Which Forces Me To Blow It At The Most Important Moments.

I Can Kind Of Envision One Person With A Lot Of Machines, Tapes, And Electronic Set-ups...singi Ng Or Speaking And Using Machines.