I am learning by the week, but my poesy is still not my own. New rhyme, new me me me in words. I am not all this carven rhetoric.

I don't do anything with my life except romanticize and decay with indecision.

Who can live with this Consciousness and not wake frightened at sunrise?

we're all golden sunflowers inside.

Scientist alone is true poet.

The censorship of language is the censorship of consciousness.

I don't think there is any truth. There are only points of view.