Poetry Is About The Grief. Politics Is

Love Has Earth To Which She Clings.

A True Sonnet Goes Eight Lines And Then Takes A Turn For Better Or Worse And Goes Six Or Eight Lines More.

Of All Crimes The Worst Is To Steal The Glory From The Great And Brave, Even More Accursed Than To Rob The Grave.

The Heart Can Think Of No Devotion Greater Than Being Shore To The Ocean- Holding The Curve Of One Position, Counting An Endless Repetition.

Ants Are A Curious Race