I Have A Plot, But

Robert Frost Had Always Said You Mustn't Think Of The Last Line First, Or It's Only A Fake Poem, Not A Real One. I'm Inclined To Agree.

Writing Is Like The Relationship With Your Bowels. First You Can, Then You Can't. Finally, You Must. Only Then Should You Reach For The Paper.

The Spirit World Doesn't Admit To Communicating With Me, So It's Fairly Even.

When In Still Air And Still In Summertime A Leaf Has Had Enough Of This, It Seems To Make Up Its Mind To Go; Fine As A Sage Its Drifting In Detachment Down The Road.

Both Poet And Painter Want To Reach The Silence Behind The Language, The Silence Within The Language. Both Painter And Poet Want Their Work To Shine Not Only In Daylight But (by Whatever Illusionist Magic) From Within.