A Poem Is An Instant

Silence Is The Only Language God Speaks.

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

Wanted: A Needle Swift Enough To Sew This Poem Into A Blanket.

Poetry: Three Mismatched Shoes At The Entrance Of A Dark Alley.

There Are People Who Live Inside Their Heads And Their Intellects. It's Something One Is Born With And Stuck With. It's Not Something You Make A Decision About.