We Are So Small Between

From Bitter Searching Of The Heart, Quickened With Passion And With Pain We Rise To Play A Greater Part This Is The Faith From Which We Start.

I Cannot Understand Why My Arm Is Not A Lilac Tree.

I Had The Title Poet, And Maybe I Was One For A While. Also, The Title Singer Was Kindly Accorded Me, Even Though I Could Barely Carry A Tune.

Most Of Our Distractions Are Designed To Invite Us Away From This Recognition, Which Is A Good Idea.

Your Hair Upon The Pillow Like A Sleepy Golden Storm