Talking Is A Hydrant In

A Champion Of The Workingman Has Never Been Known To Die Of Overwork.

Poetry Is What Is Lost In Translation. It Is Also What Is Lost In Interpretation.

The Figure A Poem Makes. It Begins In Delight And Ends In Wisdom... In A Clarification Of Life - Not Necessarily A Great Clarification, Such As Sects And Cults Are Founded On, But In A Momentary Stay Against Confusion.

Hope Is Not Found In A Way Out But A Way Through.

I Shall Set Forth For Somewhere, I Shall Make The Reckless Choice Some Say When They Are In Voice And Tossing So As To Scare The White Clouds Over Them On, I Shall Have Less To Say, But I Shall Be None.