There were poets before Homer.

Poetry is not an art, it’s a symptom.

I chase the wind and get lost in the clouds. I’m sweep into darkness in my search for the light.

Dance is the ritual of immortality

For if it is rash to walk into a lion’s den unarmed, rash to navigate the Atlantic in a rowing boat, rash to stand on one foot on top of St. Paul’s, it is still...