The End Of Art Is Peace.

Strange, It Is A Huge Nothing That We Fear.

It Has As Much To Do With The Energy Released By Linguistic Fission And Fusion, With The Buoyancy Generated By Cadence And Tone And Rhyme And Stanza, As It Has To Do With The Poem's Concerns Or The Poet's Truthfulness.

Don't Be Surprised If I Demur, For, Be Advised My Passport's Green.

I Don't Miss Teaching. I'm Learning To Take My Time For Myself.

Even If The Last Move Did Not Succeed, The Inner Command Says Move Again.