Love Is The Mystery Of Water And

I Like On The Table, When We're Speaking, The Light Of A Bottle Of Intelligent Wine.

Poetry Is An Act Of Peace.

I Am Made Of Earth, And My Song Made Of Words.

And The Verse Falls To The Soul Like Dew To The Pasture.

We Are Dust And To Dust Return. In The End We're Neither Air, Nor Fire, Nor Water, Just Dirt, Neither More Nor Less, Just Dirt, And Maybe Some Yellow Flowers.