I Am Often Asked Why I Write,

It Is Written In The Book Of Usable Minutes That All Things Have Their Center In Their Dying.

So I Cradle This Average Violin That Knows Only Forgotten Showtunes, But Argues The Possibility Of Free Declamation Anchored To A Dull Refrain.

The Facts Of History Have Been Too Well Rehearsed.

Most Reckless Things Are Beautiful In Some Way, And Recklessness Is What Makes Experimental Art Beautiful, Just As Religions Are Beautiful Because Of The Strong Possibilities That They Are Founded On Nothing.

Imagine A Painter Crucified By His Subject!