It was here we turned the coffee cups upside down. And your eyes and the moon swept the valley.
Arithmetic is where numbers fly like pigeons in and out of your head.
The drum in a dream pounds loud to the dreamer.
Rest is not a word of free people. Rest is a monarchical word.
After the sunset on the prairie, there are only the stars
Poetry is a series of explanations of life, fading off into horizons too swift for explanations.