 Many of my poems are a lot like prayers. I suspect that the poems of many writers could be read as prayers. I think of poetry as one of the ways we exercise the highest gift of humanity, the imagining of what is not but yet might be. Such imagining is not quite pure speculation but might be thought of as grounded speculation, taking a here and now reality and letting it grow. Open the Door Thank you for Democracy Nine Eleven Bright Last Flowers Community Dark Eros Death Enough To Go Around Decay Discipline Found In A Night Forest Good Songs Are Free MoonBear The Devil Wore a Crucifix The Spotless Rug The Waterfall Time To Stand Up To The Victor Goes Whats Spoiled Two-Headed Nails Rotting Hulk |