The prose poem Walk The Red Road is great stuff and deserves to be read aloud. It compares quite favorably to The Walls Of Emerald by Li Chiang Yen, a Chinese poet of the late Tang period.

It is at night... that the mind is most clear, that we are most able to hold all our life in the palm of our skull.

When knowledge becomes formulated into a science, then it does take on a life of it's own, often alien to the human spirit that conceived it.

Science fiction is for real, space opera is for fun.

I can't help believing that these things that come from the subconscious mind have a sort of truth to them. It may not be a scientific truth, but it's psychological truth.

That is why we dread children, even if we love them. They show us the state of our decay.

Fantasy is literature for teenagers.