Poetry is a mystic, sensuous mathematics of fire, smoke-stacks, waffles, pansies, people, and purple sunsets.

I am! I have come through! I belong!

POETRY: A sliver of the moon lost in the belly of a golden frog.

I couldn't see myself filling some definite niche in what is called a career. This was all misty.

Where was I going? I puzzled and wondered about it til I actually enjoyed the puzzlement and wondering.

Poetry is an exhibit of one pendulum connecting with other and unseen pendulums inside and outside the one seen.

We don't have to think up a title till we get the doggone book written.