Corncobs Are The Greatest Fire-making Tinder.

Poetry Is Ordinary Language Raised To The Nth Power.

All Poetry Is An Ordered Voice, One Which Tries To Tell You About A Vision In The Un-visionary Language Of Farm, City, And Love.

To Eat In The Same Room Where Food Is Cooked - That Is The Way To Thank The Lord For His Abundance.

The Years Rolled Their Brutal Course Down The Hill Of Time. Still Poor, My Clothes Still Smelling Of The Horse Barn, Still Writing Those Doubtful Poems Where Too Much Emotion Clashed With Too Many Words.

Human Life Is Too Difficult For People.