Our lives are like a candle in the wind.

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

I am! I have come through! I belong!

Hope is an echo, hope ties itself yonder, yonder.

Poetry is a puppet-show, where riders of skyrockets and divers of sea fathoms gossip about the sixth sense and the fourth dimension.

I make it clear why I write as I do and why other poets write as they do. After hundreds of experiments I decided to go my own way in style and see what would happen.

Arithmetic is where numbers fly like pigeons in and out of your head.