...How terrible, those dreams before sleep were—the worse kind, mixing hope with despair...

...the wind hums low with sweet exultation, sings its lullaby, while you sleep ...

...my dreams are tangled in images of stars and clouds and firelight - we go camping at night - it's my lucid dream of being with you...

...at dawn, the grains of sleep turn to floating black spots, then out of focus the world tilts, and the cat scratches at the door...

...poetry is paying attention to life when all the world seems asleep to its beauties and truths...

... paint in blue and black...sometimes gray - the colors of night - occasionally I surprise you with a mustard yellow, but then, I am a poet ...