The True Poem Rests Between The Words.

Sex In Space Is Not Just A Good Idea, It's Survival.

We Are The Ancestors Of Those Gardening The Universe.

When We Love There Is No Reason Why.

It's Weird How People Who Are The Least Close To Me Or Who've Never Even Met Me Purport To Be Experts On The Real Me; And Then, Sadly, There Are Those Who Could Be In Touch With Me But Prefer To Gossip With Strangers About Me Instead.

Pure At Heart: To Be Like A Flower That Blooms As Gloriously, Brilliantly In A Secluded Wild Wood, Not Seen And Praised.