We thought, because we had power, we had wisdom.
Our earth is but a small star in a great universe. Yet of it we can make, if we choose, a planet unvexxed by war, untroubled by hunger or fear, undivided by senseless distinctions of race, color or theory.
A phrase may come to me as I am walking, and, once I write it down in my journal, the rest of the poem will unravel from that catalyst.
Grant us brotherhood, not only for this day but for all our years – a brotherhood not of words but of acts and deeds.
Life is not lost -dying; life is lost minute -minute, day -dragging day, in all the thousand small uncaring ways.
Bury my heart at Wounded Knee.
It’s to a younger people’s advantage to work with evolving computer technologies that provide so many ways to explore the use and distribution of text, including sound, images and motion.
Money is sullen And wisdom is sly, But youth is the pollen That blows through the sky And does not ask why.
Books are not men and yet they are alive.
Our fathers and ourselves sowed dragon’s teeth. Our children know and suffer the armed men.
I do think that the kind of writing that I do will always be around and printed in books, magazines, and now blogs.
American Muse, whose strong and diverse heart So many men have tried to understand But only made it smaller with their art, Because you are as various as your land.