POETRY: A sliver of the moon lost in the belly of a golden frog.
Poetry is the cipher key to the five mystic wishes packed in a hollow silver bullet fed to a flying fish.
Poetry is a phantom script telling how rainbows are made and why they go away.
God, let me remember all good losers.
I take you and pile high the memories. Death will break her claws on some I keep.
Ordering a man to write a poem is like commanding a pregnant woman to give birth to a red-headed child.