Nearly all the best things that came to me in life have been unexpected, unplanned by me.

Poetry is a sky dark with a wild-duck migration.

Poetry is a slipknot tightened around a time-beat of one thought, two thoughts, and a last interweaving thought there is not yet a number for.

Hog butcher for the world, Tool maker, stacker of wheat, Player with railroads and the nation's freight handler; Stormy, husky, brawling, City of big shoulders.

I was up day and night with Lincoln for years. I couldn't have picked a better companion.

I could safely declare, I am an idealist... I believe in everything - I am only looking for proofs.

I've written some poetry I don't understand myself.