I shall be telling this with a sigh Somewhere ages and ages hence: Two roads diverged in a wood, and I - I took the one less traveled by, And that has made all the difference.

A poem...begins as a lump in the throat, a sense of wrong, a homesickness, a lovesickness. It is a reaching-out toward expression; an effort to find fulfillmen…

The Hyla breed That shouted in the mist a month ago, Like ghost of sleigh-bells in a ghost of snow.

Forgive me my nonsense as I also forgive the nonsense of those who think they talk sense.

You ought to be thankful for the little things But little things are all you seem to give You're always putting off what we can do today Soap opera says you've…

To be and not to be, that is the answer.

All beginnings are unvoluntary.