Sometimes ... Dreams Are All

A Hero. You Want To Be One Of Those Rare Human Beings Who Make History, Rather Than Merely Watch It Flow Around Them Like Water Around A Rock.

The Future Is Like Smoke From A Burning Forest, Waiting For The Wind Of Specific Events And Personal Courage To Blow The Sparks And Embers Of Reality This Way Or That.

There Is A Fullness And Calmness There Which Can Come Only From Knowing Pain.

Lovemaking Seems All Too Absurd When Described.

Poetry Is Only Secondarily About Words. Primarily, It Is About Truth. I Dealt With The Ding An Sich, The Substance Behind The Shadow, Weaving Powerful Concepts, Similes, And Connections The Way An Engineer Would Raise A Skyscraper With The Whiskered-alloy Skeleton Being Constructed Long Before The Glass And Plastic And Chromaluminum Appears.