To Say Nothing Is Out Here Is

The Four Horsemen Of The Prairie Are Tornado, Locust, Drought, And Fire, And The Greatest Of These Is Fire, A Rider With Two Faces Because For Everything Taken, It Makes A Return In Equal Measure.

With A Nearly Desperate Sense Of Isolation And A Growing Suspicion That I Lived In An Alien Land, I Took To The Road In Search Of Places Where Change Did Not Mean Ruin And Where Time And Men And Deeds Connected.

No Yesterdays On The Road.

I Contend That In The Kind Of Nonfiction I Write, And That Other People Also Pursue, Anything Is Permissible Provided The Reader Knows What You're Taking Liberties With.

Instead Of Insight, Maybe All A Man Gets Is Strength To Wander For A While.