The Mercy Of The West Has Been

In Western Civilization, Our Elders Are Books.

A Great Poet Does Not Express His Or Her Self; He Expresses All Of Our Selves.

I Pledge Allegiance To The Soil Of Turtle Island, And To The Beings Who Thereon Dwell One Ecosystem In Diversity Under The Sun With Joyful Interpenetratio N For All.

Burning The Small Dead Branches Broke From Beneath Thick Spreading Whitebark Pine. A Hundred Summers Snowmelt Rock And Air Hiss In A Twisted Bough.

Place And The Scale Of Space Must Be Measured Against Our Bodies And Their Capabilities.