Seine And Piave Are Silver

I Am Tired Of Loving A Foreign Muse.

Our Earth Is But A Small Star In A Great Universe. Yet Of It We Can Make, If We Choose, A Planet Unvexxed By War, Untroubled By Hunger Or Fear, Undivided By Senseless Distinctions Of Race, Color Or Theory.

Remember That When You Say "i Will Have Non Of This Exile And This Stranger For His Face Is Not Like My Face And His Speech Is Strange," You Have Denied America With That Word.

A Phrase May Come To Me As I Am Walking, And, Once I Write It Down In My Journal, The Rest Of The Poem Will Unravel From That Catalyst.

Truth Is A Hard Deer To Hunt. If You Eat Too Much Truth At Once, You Might Die Of The Truth.