The business of love is cruelty which, by our wills, we transform to live together.

Poetry demands a different material than prose. It uses another facet of the same fact... the spontaneous conformation of language as it is heard.

A profusion of pink roses being ragged in the rain speaks to me of all gentleness and its enduring.

The American idiom has much to offer us that the English language has never heard of

Love is a young green willow shimmering at the bare wood's edge

Dissonance / (if you are interested) / leads to discovery.

A poem is a small machine made out of words.