Fermentation And Civilization Are Inseparable.

One Night I Dreamed I Was Locked In My Father's Watch With Ptolemy And Twenty-one Ruby Stars Mounted On Spheres And The Primum Mobile Coiled And Gleaming To The End Of Space And The Notched Spheres Eating Each Other's Rinds To The Last Tooth Of Time, And The Case Closed.

What Has Any Poet To Trust More Than The Feel Of The Thing? Theory Concerns Him Only Until He Picks Up His Pen, And It Begins To Concern Him Again As Soon As He Lays It Down.

The Success Of The Poem Is Determined Not By How Much The Poet Felt In Writing It, But By How Much The Reader Feels In Reading It.

A Good Question Is Never Answered. It Is Not A Bolt To Be Tightened Into Place But A Seed To Be Planted And To Bear More Seed Toward The Hope Of Greening The Landscape Of Idea.

I'm Smiled Out, Talked Out, Quipped Out, Socialized So Far From Any Being, I Need The Weight Of Mortal Silences To Get Realized Back Into Myself.