Grandfather Space. The Mind Is His Wife

True Affluence Is To Not Need Anything.

Lay Down These Words Before Your Mind Like Rocks. Placed Solid, By Hands In Choice Of Place, Set Before The Body Of The Mind In Space And Time: Solidity Of Bark, Leaf, Or Wall Riprap Of Things: Cobble Of Milky Way. Straying Planets, These Poems, People, Lost Ponies With Dragging Saddles -- And Rocky Sure-foot Trails. The Worlds Like An Endless Four-dimensional Game Of Go. Ants And Pebbles In The Thin Loam, Each Rock A Word A Creek-washed Stone Granite: Ingrained With Torment Of Fire And Weight Crystal And Sediment Linked Hot All Change, In Thoughts, As Well As Things.

A Reading Is A Kind Of Communion. The Poet Articulates The Semi-known For The Tribe.

A Great Poet Does Not Express His Or Her Self; He Expresses All Of Our Selves.

Today We Are Aware As Never Before Of The Plurality Of Human Life-styles And Possibilities, While At The Same Time Being Tied, Like In An Old Silent Movie, To A Runaway Locomotive Rushing Headlong Toward A Very Singular Catastrophe