Remembering his music, carrying on, being true to the vision we share
How I See God
As a combination of an elderly Abraham Lincoln and Uncle Sam; through the hole in my throat; through an innocent, crucified victim hanging on a tree
We have to stumble through so much dirt and humbug before we reach home. And we have no one to guide us. Our only guide is our homesickness.
News Of The Universe
Poems Of Twofold Consciousness
This book asks one question over and over: how much consciousness is the poet willing to grant to trees or hills or living creatures not a part of his own species?
The portraits are abstractions until my friend pulls a secret lever and the paintings open, like books. I gasp as the women’s faces, their thoughts, their histories come alive. They are unaware of us and may be studied on any level we choose.
I don’t like what I see around me: people with big cars, four bedroom houses and mobile homes and closets full of clothes. I don’t want to know I am one of the people who have so much in a world of people who have so little.
You Must Go Home Again
By home I mean the idea of re-inhabitation — an awareness of and loyalty to sense of place, and literally to a particular place. A place in Nature. A place of geography where one’s heart and inner machinery are filled with the silences of reality, and are at peace.