Tongues Wrangled Dark At A Man. He

Poetry Is A Theorem Of A Yellow-silk Handkerchief Knotted With Riddles, Sealed In A Balloon Tied To The Tail Of A Kite Flying In A White Wind Against A Blue Sky In Spring.

Poetry Is The Cipher Key To The Five Mystic Wishes Packed In A Hollow Silver Bullet Fed To A Flying Fish.

Faith Is Indispensable, And The World At Times Does Not Seem To Have Quite Enough Of It. It Can And Has Accomplished What Seems To Be The Impossible. Wars Have Been Started And Men And Nations Lost For The Lack Of It. Faith Starts From The Individual And Builds Men And Nations. America Was Built By And On The Faith Of Our Ancestors.

I Wrote Poems In My Corner Of The Brooks Street Station. I Sent Them To Two Editors Who Rejected Them Right Off. I Read Those Letters Of Rejection Years Later And I Agreed With Those Editors.

Come Clean With A Child Heart Laugh As Peaches In The Summer Wind Let Rain On A House Roof Be A Song Let The Writing On Your Face Be A Smell Of Apple Orchards On Late June.