The Poet Englestrom

Poet Englestrom:
Words are oxygen.

Poet Englestrom:
The careful clicks of sea snails are screams from the warm ooze; feathers of the pelicans drip down upon the news.

Poet Englestrom:
...the planet plunges up in flames of poison and violence.

Poet Englestrom:
Ticks of Yang, tocks of Yin, poets can't make oxygen.

Poet Englestrom:
I believe America's greatest writer is William Saroyan; who else would think that, huh?