What Can The Dove Of Jesus Give

The Scythers, Time And Death, Helmed Locusts, Move Upon The Tree Of Breath

Sometimes Nothing Is So Solid To Me As Writing - I Suppose That's What A Vocation Means - At Times A Torment, A Bad Conscience, But All In All, Purpose And Direction.

If Youth Is A Defect, It Is One We Outgrow Too Soon.

Once Fishing Was A Rabbit's Foot-- O Wind Blow Cold, O Wind Blow Hot

Their Monument Sticks Like A Fishbone In The City's Throat.