“When I'm drunk with feeling and nature is drinking from my lips and we reflect each other in our atmospheres, then my words come effortlessly and my fingers go into labor...day or night. ”

“Magic waited for me in the morning dew of this brand new day. And silence sang, so soft and low. It touched my sun dappled skin and kissed my parted lips.”

“That night I wasn't reading your palm...I was monogramming my fingerprints on the sidewalks of your lifeline.”

“Lick my finger so I can scan your table of contents- fuck the index- I yearn to ride your story line.”

“When the door to my writing chamber gasps shut and the almost imperceptible sigh of a rose petal falls on my desk, I know that my muse is present.”

“So I watch my sadness, gleaming in all of its soft pastel glory. And I listen to the arguments against my sanity. ”

“With you in my hand I can travel across the universe in one verse and skip moons to the tunes of Miles or Coltrane.”