Money buys everything except love, personality, freedom, immortality, silence, peace.
Tell no man anything, for no man listens Yet hold thy lips ready to speak.
Poetry is a projection across silence of cadences arranged to break that silence with definite intentions of echoes, syllables, wave lengths.
I take you and pile high the memories. Death will break her claws on some I keep.
Poetry is a plan for a slit in the face of a bronze fountain goat and the path of fresh drinking water.
Arithmetic is numbers you squeeze from your head to your hand to your pencil to your paper till you get the answer.