Poetry: Three Mismatched Shoes At The Entrance

The Ambition Of Much Of Today's Literary Theory Seems To Be To Find Ways To Read Literature Without Imagination.

The World Is Beautiful But Not Sayable. That's Why We Need Art.

Silence Is The Only Language God Speaks.

To Submit To Chance Is To Reveal The Self And Its Obsessions.

The Plain Truth Is We Are Going To Die. Here I Am, A Teeny Spec Surrounded By Boundless Space And Time, Arguing With The Whole Of Creation, Shaking My Fist, Sputtering, Growing Even Eloquent At Times, And Then-poof! I Am Gone. Swept Off Once And For All. I Think That Is Very, Very Funny.