If the sky falls they shall have clouds for supper.
Poems are other people's snapshots in which we see our own lives.
Making art in America is about saving one's soul.
The poem I want to write is impossible. A stone that floats.
The stars know everything, So we try to read their minds. As distant as they are, We choose to whisper in their presence.
Here is something we can all count on. Sooner or later our tribe always comes to ask us to agree to murder.