Poetry Has Ceased To Be

The Meaning Of Life Can Be Revealed But Never Explained.

A White Crowned Night Sparrow Sings As The Moon Sets. Thunder Growls Far Off. Our Campfire Is A Single Light. Amongst A Hundred Peaks And Waterfalls. The Manifold Voices Of Falling Water Take All Night. Wrapped In Your Down Bag Starlight On You Cheeks And Eyelids Your Breath Comes And Goes In A Tiny Cloud In The Frosty Night. Ten Thousand Birds Sing In The Sunrise. Ten Thousand Years Revolve Without Change. All This Will Never Be Again.

When The Newspapers Have Got Nothing Else To Talk About, They Cut Loose On The Young. The Young Are Always News. If They Are Up To Something, That's News. If They Aren't, That's News Too.

Did You Know I Staged The First Performance In America Of At The Hawk's Well?

Man Thrives Where Angels Would Die Of Ecstasy And Where Pigs Would Die Of Disgust.