Calling It Off Comes Easy

In The Night The Cabbages Catch At The Moon, The Leaves Drip Silver, The Rows Of Cabbages Are A Series Of Little Silver Waterfalls In The Moon.

After The Sunset On The Prairie, There Are Only The Stars

Poetry Is The Synthesis Of Hyacinths And Biscuits.

Freedom Is Baffling: Men Having It Often Know Not They Have It Till It Is Gone And They No Longer Have It.

The Dead Hold In Their Hands Only What They Have Given Away.