Love Is An Irresistible Desire To Be

The Tree The Tempest With A Crash Of Wood Throws Down In Front Of Us Is Not To Bar Our Passage To Our Journey's End For Good, But Just To Ask Us Who We Think We Are.

I Have Never Started A Poem Yet Whose End I Knew. Writing A Poem Is Discovering.

Never Discuss The Poem You Contemplate Writing. It's Like Turning On The Outside Spigot. It Takes All The Pressure Off The Upstairs Bathroom.

We Ran As If To Meet The Moon.

Lovers, Forget Your Love And List To The Love Of These She A Window Flower And He A Winter Breeze.