All the poems have wolves in them. All but one. The most beautiful one of all. She dances in a ring of fire and throws off the challenge with a shrug.

Between childhood, boyhood, adolescence & manhood (maturity) there should be sharp lines drawn w/ Tests , deaths, feats, rites stories, songs, & judgements.

Resident mockery, give us an hour for magic.

Take an Indian home to lunch.

We fear violence less than our own feelings. Personal, private, solitary pain is more terrifying than what anyone else can inflict.

The world we suggest is a new wild west. A sensuous evil world. Strange and haunting, the path of the sun.

...most of the press were vultures descending on the scene for curious America aplomb. Cameras inside the coffin interviewing worms.